


You and I, We're Intergalactic

by freethedoncastertwo



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Emma Watson is a secret agent too, M/M, alien!Louis, other than that it's canon-compliant, secret agent!Nick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freethedoncastertwo/pseuds/freethedoncastertwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a cross-planetary traveller; an alien who crash-landed on Earth and has since been masquerading as a human boy-band member. Which is fine. Really.<br/>Or it would be, if not for the government-agent-come-radio-DJ who happens to be hot on Louis’ trail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning to finish this entire fic before posting it, but I'm not sure that I have that kind of patience and I'm starting to worry that if I don't post at least _some_ of this fic I'll abandon it. So I'm making a rash decision to post the first 10k tonight.  
>  I'm probably going to be plagued with regrets tomorrow morning, but for now here's some alien!Louis.

Turtles are damn scary.

Anyone in their right mind would agree. Louis doesn’t understand why Liam likes them, and he certainly doesn’t understand why Liam has decided to bring one to the BBC1 radio station at 6am in the damn morning. It’s flibbernous – err, it’s wrong. But apparently it’s an apology gift for Matt Fincham, who was disgruntled last month when Louis may or may not have set fire to the man’s ‘perm.’ It’s not Louis’ fault that Fincham’s usually lifeless hair had suddenly looked like it was attacking him. He was only acting under intergalactic safety guidelines. In any case, human customs are strange.

Now Louis is twiddling his thumbs in a radio station, seated across from a glaring Matt Fincham with only a tank and a floating turtle in between them. The turtle gapes at Louis, as if it understands his pain.

Beside Louis, Liam is chatting and laughing with the other 1D boys and the rest of the Breakfast Team. The ‘Breakfast Team’ doesn’t look very breakfast-y at all – not a single member is wearing a smile, for one. It’s a bit disheartening, but so are most things about earthly breakfasts.

Louis’ train of thought is interrupted when a latecomer enters the room and clears his throat. Louis looks up, sees that it’s Nick, and looks back down at the turtle. He scowls. Nick notices the look and laughs at him. He settles into a seat near Louis’. Louis subtly edges away.

 It’s not that Louis _dislikes_ Nick. It’s just that Nick is a threat to Louis’ life on Earth and the informational security of Louis’ people.

Honestly, apart from that, he’s a pretty upright guy.

See, Nick is a secret agent. He locates persons of interest (e.g. aliens) for a _living_. He’s on a mission to locate one right now. Nick doesn’t know that Louis knows, but he does. He knows. He knows why Nick watches Louis from the corner of his eye sometimes; he knows why Nick enquires after Louis when he’s not around, and he knows that Nick is a brilliant secret agent. But Louis is a brilliant alien, and so far, he’s one step ahead. He was quick to find out all about this country’s intelligence agency, and even quicker to locate Nick, the undercover Officer of Extraterrestrial Investigation who doubles as a radio DJ.

Nick doesn’t know that Louis isn’t from around here. Not yet, at least. And Louis intends to keep it that way.

The interview is about to start. Louis fixes his fringe, despite knowing that the radio listeners won’t actually _see_ him. Just before Fincham presses the button that will have their voices broadcasting to the citizens of Earth, Nick leans over to whisper in Louis’ ear. Louis tenses, not knowing what he could possibly want to say.

Nick tilts his quiff and grins. “Go on a date with me?”

And, well.

Fincham’s finger pauses. Gazes dart towards them, and Louis feels his cheeks flushing red. _Whisper_ in Nick’s dictionary still means speaking at a decibel level loud enough to attract the whole room’s attention, apparently, and Louis doesn’t understand. This must be some kind of trickery. Some hoax, some wicked plot. His mind races through the hundreds of languages in use here on Earth, and he can’t find a single one to tell him what to say.

“I, um.” The turtle is still gaping and Louis feels silly for gaping back at it. He lifts his gaze to find something or someone else to help him. Somehow his eyes find Harry’s.

Harry spends exactly 0.3 seconds assessing the look on Louis’ face before he grins. “He will,” he says to the entire room. Addressing Nick, he says, “Yes. He’d love to.”

Louis’ heart is hammering in his chest while the room seems to buzz with cheer around him. His mouth hangs open and snaps shut. But suddenly they’re on air, and Louis is left gawking disbelievingly at the cheeky, curly-haired human that used to be his favourite.

Maybe turtles are nicer than humans after all.

-

“I’m sorry,” Harry wheedles, traipsing behind Louis through the door of their apartment.

Louis will have none of it. Niall is already in their kitchen raiding the fridge – honestly, Louis could have _sworn_ he’d left the car after them, he has no idea how he does it – and Zayn might be trying to break their DVD player. He might also be trying to watch _the Mummy_ , but by the way he’s shoving the disc erroneously into the slot, it’s hard to tell.

Louis flicks his hair and sits at the kitchen counter. Harry slides across from him, leans his elbows on the table and gives Louis his _serious look_. Louis hums in irritation, avoiding his gaze. “Louis. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accepted Nick’s date offer for you. It was presumptuous and wrong.”

Louis purses his lips. “Get away from me,” he says, though it’s not so much directed at Harry as it is towards the universe at large.

Harry’s eyes widen. “Louis. Lou.”

Louis snorts. The eyes widen further.

And fucking, fucking _humans_. Louis _can’t_. “Fine, I forgive you,” he sighs, dropping his head on the table as Harry grins.

Harry shuffles around in the cupboard for something to cook, which means he’s really fucking excited. He pulls out a sealed plastic packet that apparently contains a noodle stir-fry. “So you’ll go out with Nick?” he asks, waving a wooden spoon in the air.

Louis scowls at him. “ _What?_ No.”

Harry pouts. “But I thought you liked him? That’s why I – you know?”

Louis grabs the spoon from his hand. “First of all, you know you shouldn’t have done that. Secondly, why ever would you think that I _like_ him?”

Harry puffs. “Well, like. You always get nervous around him.”

Louis doesn’t have a response to that. It’s true. He could, of course, explain the real reason to Harry but somehow he doesn’t think _“Nick’s a secret agent and he’s hunting me down”_ would sit well, and the boys already worry about him so much as it is. Harry worries about him so much.

This is Louis’ problem, so he pats Harry on the cheek and says, “Alright. You’ve caught me. I’ll go on _one_ date with him, but after that no more pestering me about it, okay?”

Harry beams as if he’s uncovered a priceless jewel. “I knew it!” he crows, twirling delightedly and hurrying off into the living room to tell the others about this development.

-

Louis stares at the mirror with an air of melancholy. He wonders if this is what arranged marriages feel like. It’s Friday evening and Nick’s picking him up at eight, taking him to a “nice little Italian joint downtown”. Harry is, of course, beside himself. Louis is utterly depressed.

It’s not that Louis doesn’t like Italian food. Usually he loves it. He loves that sometimes the food is long and thin and twirly, sometimes fat and spicy, sided with crunchy bread and covered in interesting sauce. It’s not even that he doesn’t like Nick – because, somewhere in the back of his mind or the deepest chambers of his heart, Louis suspects that he does. If Louis didn’t like Nick maybe he’d be able to go into this situation with a clearer head. He’d possibly be able to figure this out. As it is, he’s living on a foreign planet and about to go on a date with the man who could completely blow his cover, and yet there’s a small, wretched part of him that is hoping Nick likes his jeans.

Everything is horrible.

Louis takes a deep breath. He can do this. He does have a _bit_ of a plan, however haphazard it may be. See, this could be his window. It could be his opportunity to throw Nick off his trail once and for all. He’s going to go on this date and act so convincingly human that Nick won’t suspect his real identity for a second. And then at the end of the night he’s going to break Nick’s heart, as cruelly and cleanly as humans do. Nick will want nothing to do with him after that. Nothing at all.

So, Louis’ got this sorted. He just needs to work up the resolve to do it.

The doorbell rings. Louis has about three quarters of a panic attack before he hears Harry run to it. Harry opens the door with a beam Louis can _feel_ ; the vibrations of it travelling through the floors and making him sway where he stands. He can’t actually do this. He sends a telepathic scream to Harry, _DON’T LET HIM IN!,_ and like, Louis isn’t telepathic but maybe it works because he hears the door slam. Two seconds later Harry comes bounding into his room.

Harry hovers in the doorway. “Lou?”

Louis slumps onto the ground. He rolls over until his mouth is muffled against the carpet. “I’m dead. Feed me to the oxen. Fill their bellies with the crumbs of my failed life.”

Harry’s eyes soften. He kneels beside Louis and wraps around him, picking at his clothes like a monkey. “Oxen aren’t carnivorous, Lou.”

Louis moans.

Harry nuzzles his face. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to go, if you don’t want to. I can ask Nick to leave.”

Louis considers this for a moment. But at length, he shakes his head. “No,” he says, patting Harry’s chin and standing up. “I. No. I want to go.” He tries for an excited smile but fails, a bit abysmally.

Harry watches him worriedly, his mouth opening and closing as if he wants to say something. Finally he sighs. “I messed up by arranging this,” he begins. “I shouldn’t have –”

“Harry,” Louis cuts him off. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine. I’m going to go on this date and have fun, and you’re going to watch football with Niall and try not to worry your pretty little face off, okay?”

Harry bites his lip, but nods. Louis smiles. They watch each other quietly for a moment before there’s a tentative doorbell ring.

Harry blinks and Louis stares before they break into laughter. “Oh, right. He’s still here,” Harry says, turning to the door.

Louis waves him off. “I’ll get it,” he says, going out into the hallway. He opens the front door to see an awkward-looking Nick.

Nick waves. “Hi.” He’s grinning this big goofy grin; his eyes dancing. Louis likes that about Nick, how he always looks as if his mind is running with some private joke. Louis kind of wants in on it. But then, he kind of _doesn’t_ want to be locked up in a laboratory, so he can’t give too much weight to thoughts like those.

Louis smiles tolerantly. “Hi.” He closes the door behind him and walks ahead, shrugging his coat on as he goes. He glances back. “So? Where is this brilliant restaurant you’re taking me to?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Patience, darling. All will be revealed in due time.”

-

The walk to the Italian joint is actually rather nice. It’s so nice that Louis wants to flee to Hawaii, maybe, or somewhere else far away where Nick and his cohorts won’t ever lay their hands on him.

The moment they step out of the block of apartments, Nick procures from his jacket a single red rose. Louis knows that this is going downhill fast.

Louis stares at it. Nick smiles condescendingly. “You seem nervous, love.”

Louis huffs and grabs it from his hand. “Am not. I just didn’t realise you were bloody Shakespeare or some shit. Shit.”

It’s a cool evening. The last remnants of daylight hang around them, soft lilac weaving through knotted trees. Louis can see his breath in front of his face. Nick laughs for five whole minutes. His obnoxious, raucous laughter frightens flocks of birds away, and Louis watches them fly. Louis doesn’t even know what Nick’s laughing at, but he doesn’t want to interrupt it. It’s a process of nature, a pattern just as pretty as any on Earth. Louis is an observer. He inhales the rose scent and observes.

When Nick is done, Louis clears his throat and rolls his eyes. “Are you quite finished?” he says haughtily.

Louis straightens his collar and reminds himself that Nick is danger. Terrible danger. Major danger. Danger with a very big D.

Harry would laugh at him for that.

Nick nods. “So sorry about that,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. He puts an arm around Louis’ shoulder and points to the shop window on Louis’ left. “Look. Here we are.”

Louis looks. Nick is pointing to a cosy little bistro, simply called _Isabella’s._   Through the panes Louis can see quaint tables and leather seats, and in the window is a tank of – a tank filled with –

Louis squeaks and emits a trill of very un-humanlike beeps before he can stop himself. He rushes to the window. He presses his face up against the glass, eyes wide. “Lorbsters?” he breathes.

Nick blinks. He comes to stand beside Louis. “Um? Yeah, they’re quite nice the way they’re done here, I’ve heard.”

“Is it – they’re really – haaaaaah,” Louis breathes in and out, momentarily forgetting that they’re on a date, and that he has a plan to stick to. He used to watch documentaries about these magnificent Earth creatures swimming around back when he was a very young Varian. He fancied becoming an explorer and seeing them in real life one day. It was one of the many childish dreams he gave up on when he got a little bit older, but now? Now he’s here, in the flesh. Nick can wait a little while longer for his bloody dinner, Louis thinks. He needs a moment.

He nuzzles the glass and sighs happily. “ _Lorbsters_.”

Nick sounds confused and slightly judgemental. “Erm – when you say ‘lorbsters’ – you mean lobsters, right?”

Louis isn’t really listening, still transfixed, but as the words sink in Louis pulls his wide eyes away from the tank to stare at Nick. “What?”

“Lobsters. Y’know, crustaceans, will clip you nastily if you’re not careful.” He points. “Those things.” He’s trying not to laugh, now; his face knotting itself into that annoying little smirk.

“Lob?” Louis’ heart sinks inexplicably. He’s caught up in that horrible feeling one gets when one realises that one’s understanding of the universe has for a long time been very slightly wrong. “Lob... lobsters?”

Nick nods faux-seriously. “Yes. Lobsters,” he affirms.

“Not lorbsters?”

Nick shakes his head, face grave. “I’m afraid not.”

Louis almost emits a sad little peal of beeping, but catches himself just in time. The lobsters float up and down in their tank, black eyes staring at him indifferently. His knees feel weak as they walk into the restaurant. He’s glad when they sit down at a table near the back. _Lobsters_. His entire life has been a lie.

Nick subtly checks his appearance and touches Louis in small ways; little brushes against his hand as they settle at their table. His smile is wide and reassuring; his eyes warm and interesting. Louis studies him. He looks nothing like secret agent right now. He looks, more than anything, like a man on a date.

Louis picks up a menu and scans the unfamiliar dish names. “What are you having?” he asks Nick after a moment.

Nick is regarding the menu thoughtfully. “Bruschetta to start with, I think.”

Nick pronounces _bruschetta_ with an accent that Louis can only guess is perfect. It makes him feel hopelessly out of his depth. “And then what?” he asks.

“Can’t go wrong with spaghetti bolognaise, I’ve always said,” he replies. “No desert for me, though. I’m watching my weight, and all.” He pats his belly. “We can’t all be gorgeous pop stars,” he sighs.

Louis frowns and pokes his head around the table to see Nick better. “Watching it for what?” he questions suspiciously.

Nick snorts. “It’s an expression, Tomlinson, keep up.” His tone is teasing, but underneath that it’s slightly fond. Louis flushes nonetheless. This isn’t going as well as he’d planned.

A waitress comes over and takes out a little notebook. “Hi, how can I help you?” she says brightly. Nick places his order and Louis says he’ll have the same. The bruschetta comes quickly. Louis takes small bites and stares at the table, feeling hopelessly nervous. He realises, quite suddenly, that he has absolutely no idea how to act. He wishes he’d studied for this. He wishes he’d never come in the first place.

Nick leans forward and brushes his hand against Louis’. When Louis looks up, he’s grinning. “You’re usually more of a chatterer, love,” he observes.

Louis blushes. “I – sorry,” he laughs awkwardly. “I must be boring you.”

Nick shakes his head. “No. I find you intriguing.”

Louis huffs a giggle. “Well. Me too. I mean, I find _you_ intriguing, too; I don’t mean that I find myself intriguing, because who would blatantly say that? And also, the word ‘intriguing’ implies that the object of intrigue holds some sort of mystery. Which I don’t. None. I’m just. Me.” As Louis babbles, Nick traces small circles on his hand. It’s very distracting, and slightly arousing. Nick holds his gaze. Louis sighs. “Why did you ask me out?”

Nick purses his lips. “Well. I’ll be honest.” Louis closes his eyes. At this stage, he wouldn’t be surprised if the next words out of Nick’s mouth were _I know you’re an alien_. But they aren’t. Nick smiles sheepishly. “I wanted to get in your pants.”

Louis knows this one. He does. He thinks back to his Hibrillitune Handbook of Human Behaviour.

_Page 137. When a human expresses a desire to get inside another’s pants, they are communicating that they wish to have sexual intercourse with that person._

Well. “And you don’t now?” Louis doesn’t know where the flicker of hurt comes from when it sparks uninvited in his chest, but he’s suddenly holding his breath.

“No, no, no!” Nick raises his hands. “I do! You’re looking _fetching_ tonight. I’m going to text my friends a picture of you. In fact –” he grins mischievously and raises his voice so the other patrons can hear, “it’s embarrassing how hot I am for you right now.” Louis’ face is burning. He opens his mouth to tell Nick off before Nick continues, “But I’d like to get to know you first.”

Louis’ mouth clamps closed again. “Oh,” he murmurs, as the waitress comes over with their spaghetti.

She places their plates on the table. “Ta, love,” Nick says before he faces Louis. He looks almost anxious about it. “Is that okay?”

Louis tries to bite back a smile. “Yes, that’s okay.” He’s stupid. He likes Nick and he’s stupid, and Nick possibly likes him too. He feels like someone has torn out his own heart and placed a hummingbird’s in his body, and it’s racing so much faster than he can handle. He folds Nick’s hand in his own, smiling with a guise of confidence. “But only if I can get to know you.”

 _Lead him on and break his heart._ That is Louis’ only real option and he’s screaming it in the back of his head. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. The only real issue in the equation is the fact that Louis doesn’t think he can.

Nick beams. He takes a slurping gulp of spaghetti and waves his fork in the air emphatically, widening his eyes in pleasure at the taste. “Mm!” he cries, eyes sparkling at Louis. “Wonderful.” A lone string of spaghetti dangles from his mouth. He flicks it away without a care, batting model eyelashes.

 _It’s not fine_ , Louis thinks, and buries his face in his dinner.

-

It takes exactly forty-five minutes to pick every bit of spaghetti out of Louis’ hypersensitive Varian hair. By the end of it his scalp is tingling and Nick has revealed a penchant for red wine. He’s giggling and almost tumbling over in Louis’ lap when he combs out the last sprig of parsley. He holds it in front of Louis’ face and whispers, “make a wish.”

Louis isn’t sure what to do, so he eats it.

Then they stumble home. Well, Nick stumbles. Louis walks in a dignified manner. Louis drops Nick in a taxi and grins as he peers through the open window. “Don’t annoy the driver.”

Nick flaps his hands. “Never! On my honour!” he announces, hiccupping before bursting into a fresh round of giggles.

The taxi pulls away, and Louis watches it go.

Then he drags himself woefully up the stairs to his and Harry’s apartment and collapses in a heap at the door.

He hears pans clattering inside. The door opens and Harry looks down at him, frowning slightly. “Louis?”

Harry has very soft socks. Louis gazes mournfully at them. “I like him,” he confesses to the socks.

They wriggle sympathetically. “Oh, love,” Harry murmurs, letting his confusion go unvoiced for the moment as he ushers Louis inside.

-

Nick wakes up with a hangover and five texts from Emma Watson.

**_From: Emma x_ **

**_Nick did u find aliens yet_ **

**_[Sent 8:08pm]_ **

****

**_From: Emma x_ **

**_Are you shagging that boy right now I swear_ **

**_[Sent 9:30pm]_ **

****

**_From: Emma x_ **

**_I have a movie to shoot in a week Nick do u know what I had to do to convince boss to let you keep this case I had to cry Nick I brought out the waterworks for u_ **

**_[Sent 10:05pm]_ **

****

**_From: Emma x_ **

**_Nicholas XX!_ **

**_[Sent 10:07pm]_ **

****

**_From: Emma x_ **

**_I only want for you to have good things x_ **

**_[Sent 12:11am]_ **

 

Nick thinks it’s a tad bit unfair that his work partner is also possibly the only person in the universe capable of being aggressively sweet, but he’s also very grateful for her, so he sends her a quick placating text. **_I’m on it, love. P.s. a gentleman never shags and tells._** He then rolls out of bed and onto the floor, where he stares at the assortment of broken alarm clocks lying under his bed. It’s starting to look like a graveyard.

Nick is very morbid when he’s hung-over. He shakes his head and combs his hair back and then gets up on spindly legs. He stretches them out, ignoring Emma’s reply ( ** _knew he wouldn’t shag you x_** ) and flounders his way into the kitchen. He eats a plentiful helping of strawberry ice cream and contemplates last night.

Louis was... something. He _is_ something, something rather unlike anything Nick has ever come across before. And it’s a bit shit, because Nick would like to get to know him better. But in his line of work, that doesn’t really happen.

If Nick’s being honest, he doesn’t like his job. Not his _real_ job, anyway. He signed up for the agency when he was eighteen just because his friends were doing it. He didn’t know what he was doing with his life then and he still doesn’t know now. It’s dangerous, impersonal work and Nick sometimes wonders if he’s been hiding behind it – if he indulges in the spy lifestyle of quick shags here and there simply because he doesn’t want to consider doing anything serious, anything permanent; anything _life-changing_.

He would usually be fine with that. But the thing is, Nick thinks he could consider doing that kind of thing for Louis.

And now he’s frustrated because after just one date – a date that was rather botched, to be honest – all his priorities are rearranging themselves, and his job suddenly seems like less of a dalliance and more of an actual hindrance. It’s just endlessly _exasperating._ Nick flips his spoon, considering.

This case that he’s working on is a dead-end one. He knows it; everyone at the agency knows it. He could quit the agent thing and just be a DJ. He’s _good at_ hosting the Breakfast Show. He _likes_ hosting the Breakfast Show. And it’s enough income to live off. He could do it. He could.

Nick shoves the last scoop of ice cream into his mouth and twirls it around. He wants to quit his job. He doesn’t. He does.

-

It’s Saturday and they’re at a signing, and Louis can’t keep still.

‘Signings’ are human rituals where fans of their music come and ask them to inscribe their names upon albums, posters, books and pictures of their faces. Among Louis’ people entrusting one’s name to another is quite a big deal, and handing it over in a material form is even moreso. But when they took the job his bandmates had assured Louis that the fans wouldn’t use his signature against him (though they had admitted that others might) and anyway, Louis needs to be here. He needs this.

But despite the necessity of meeting and chatting with fans (most of whom Louis adores) he just can’t relax today.

“ _Louis_ ,” Zayn hisses through gritted teeth after an hour and a half of leg-bouncing, three spilled glasses of water and several rounds of push-ups, “What is your issue?  Can you chill? Please?”

“Sorry,” Louis says sheepishly, though his eyes are already darting between fans. One girl has a hat that looks like a ferret on her head. It’s hideous. Louis is entranced. Much to Zayn’s irritation – and the girl’s delight – Louis clambers up on the table, reaches out and tugs it. “Furry.”

Zayn mutters under his breath and goes back to signing a poster just as the security guards try to shoo Louis off the table. Louis sits back down and smiles at the girl, who readjusts her hat. “What’s it?” he asks, intrigued.

“It’s synthetic!” she announces cheerfully, and Zayn’s shoulders relax a little at that. Zayn is the sensitive type, after all. Louis beams. “Artificial. Made using fibres. No animals harmed in the making of it. Not a ferret,” he concludes, and she nods.

The guards eventually move her along, and Louis settles back into his leg-jiggling. On his other side, Liam is starting to get a bit stressed by it too. His expression is more forcedly patient that Zayn’s, but after Louis jerks his chair back so jarringly that a stack of cupcake boxes falls over, Liam sighs and turns to him.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks kindly, though Louis can sense the veiled exasperation underneath it.

“Nothing,” he lies, wriggling his feet a bit more. In truth, his bones feel jumpy and his stomach is a little unsteady. It’s all Nick’s fault.

Louis has been on edge since his date with Nick. The problem is, Louis knows that he’s falling for him. Nick is an atmosphere, burning him up. Louis knows that he’s as dangerous as gravity; that his tug feels twice as strong. He fears that he won’t be able to resist the pull.

The thought has him bouncing out of his skin, dreading an inevitable crash-landing.

They finish the signing after another hour and Louis leaps up out of his chair, sending a box of leftover posters skittering. On the walk back to the van everyone is visibly drained, and Harry keeps Louis occupied so he won’t frighten Niall, who’s still a bit on edge from the crowds.

They pile onto the van that will take them back to the complex, where they thankfully have an afternoon off to rest. As he’s climbing in Louis darts forward too fast and bumps into Zayn, who hits his head against the roof. Zayn cusses loudly and settles into his seat, glaring at Louis. “If you can’t be still, I swear I’m going to strap you down.”

Louis freezes. The other three fall silent and look to Louis, whose shoulders have tensed up instinctively. He stares at Zayn wide-eyed until Zayn seems to realise what he’s said. He immediately looks remorseful. “I didn’t – I didn't mean it like that...” he says weakly.

Louis shoots Zayn a glare of his own. “Forget it,” he spits as he scrambles into the back seat, prickly body language and angry tone disguising his racing heart.

Louis doesn’t speak to anyone after that. Not even when Niall offers him a friendly smile, and not even when Harry cuddles sweetly into his side. Not even when Zayn casts him an apologetic glance and shyly mumbles “Sorry, Lou.”

They arrive at the complex and Louis goes straight to bed for a nap, unable to muster even an ounce of the restless energy he felt so full of at the signing.

-

Louis wakes to a soft head burrowing into his blankets.

He peeks an eye open. “Hi, Harry.”

Harry grins up at him, his face covered in some sticky substance. Louis’ room is dimly lit. It’s not quite dark outside, but it’s getting there. “Hi, Louis.”

Louis yawns. “Time’s it?” he mumbles into his fist, followed by, “What’s on your face?”

Harry licks his lips. “It’s 5pm. And Zayn feels terrible. He’s making _lemon meringue cakes_.” Harry closes his eyes blissfully. “He’s been making them for the past two hours, since we got back, actually. They’re _everywhere_.”

Louis chuckles. “I s’pose I was a bit harsh on him,” he says quietly, playing with Harry’s hair.

Harry gawks at him. “Don’t tell him that. Zayn’s cakes are _nice_ , Lou. The more of them, the better.”

Louis hides his laughter in his pillow. “So you want me to keep letting our friend bake out of guilt?”

Harry nods fervently. “It’s how we did it at the bakery,” he replies. “Boss always made us feel bad before we started a shift. He put up pictures of, like, dogs with wheels for legs. And dilapidated buildings and shit.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “That’s disturbing.” It honestly is.

Harry flaps a dismissive hand. “Nah. One day he made me cry, and you should have _tasted_ the croissants I made. They were as light and moist as angel’s wings.” Harry’s face glows with enthusiasm as he tells this story. Louis really doesn’t know if he’s alright, sometimes.

Louis sighs and sits up, stretching. “As touching as that is, I might go and rescue Zayn from his baking misery. Coming with?” he asks, looping an arm around Harry’s waist.

Harry raises a half-finished cake in the air. “Yes! More lemon meringue!” he affirms. In all his travels Louis has never met a single soul like Harry, and he doesn’t think he ever will. He’s just _unique_. Louis smiles as he reflects on this, knowing that if he could have been stranded anywhere in the galaxy, he’s glad it was with these boys.

He’s still smiling as they wander into Zayn’s kitchen. Niall is sitting at the counter and eating with gusto and Zayn is, surely enough, baking. Liam is watching it all with a helpless expression, and his eyes light up when he sees Harry and Louis. Louis slips up behind Zayn and slips his hands around him. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Zayn murmurs back, biting his lip. He turns to face Louis. “I’m sorry about before. I was just being, y’know, snappy. I didn’t mean to strike a nerve.” His eyes are wide and earnest.

Louis smiles, flicking his nose. “It’s fine, I overreacted. Love you.”

Zayn beams, visibly relaxing. “Love you too. Are we cool?”

Louis hugs him. “Cool. Okay, good, fine, agreeable. Wonderful,” he replies, and Zayn laughs.

“You’re weird. I made cakes,” Zayn says, gesturing to the plates of small cakes that have been laid out to cool down.

Louis takes a piece and sits up on the counter. The other boys have discreetly slipped out of the kitchen and into the living room. Louis twirls his piece around in his hands, gazing at it thoughtfully. Zayn begins to tidy away the cooking utensils. Louis feels his nerves fluttering to life again. After a few minutes he says tentatively, “Zayn?”

Zayn is humming with his head in a cupboard. “Yeah?”

“Can I tell you something?”

Zayn looks at Louis and, reading his expression, comes over and hops onto the bench across from him. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Louis takes a bite of his cake, but it takes a bit of willpower to swallow. “It’s – I – um. You know how I went on that date a couple of nights ago? With Nick?”

Zayn nods, his lips tugging upwards in a smile.

Louis soldiers on. “Well. I, like. I like him.”

Zayn grins. “That’s great, Louis.” He moves, ready to hop off the counter again. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

Louis shakes his head. “No.” At Zayn’s questioning look, he continues. “Nick’s – um.” He doesn’t know how to say this. He supposes that the blunt truth is best. He tells Zayn something he found out years ago, when he’d spied a tall, spindly young man snooping around a field in Yorkshire, inspecting debris from an alien craft. Louis’. “Nick’s a secret agent. He works for a section of the government that specialises in classified cases and espionage. His job – his mission, specifically – is hunting down extraterrestrials. He’s hunting down me.”

Louis is expecting Zayn to laugh, maybe. At the very least, he’s expecting him to look shocked and refuse to believe him. Zayn does neither. He does look shocked, yes – his eyebrows get higher and higher the more Louis tells him – but when Louis is done, he exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay. Yeah, okay.”

Louis stares at the countertop despondently. “Yeah.”

Zayn studies him. “So what are you going to do?”

Louis shrugs. “I kind of... agreed to date him already. Or semi-agreed. I don’t know.”

Zayn puffs air out through his lips. “It could be dangerous, Lou.”

“Yeah.”

“But you already know that.”

“Yeah.”

Louis stares at his fingers. Zayn studies him intently for a moment. Then, “I think you should date him.”

Louis looks up in surprise. “What?”

Zayn isn’t joking. His eyes are sombre and serious. “It’s obvious you’re really hung up on this guy, Lou. And although it’s dangerous, you’ve got more of a safety net here than you’ve ever had before.”

At Louis’ dubious expression, Zayn elaborates. “You know what I mean. Think about it this way – worst case scenario, he finds out who you are. You won’t let it get to that stage, yeah? But even if he does find out, they can’t hurt you. You’re an international celebrity. I don’t mean to brag, but at this moment, we’re the biggest boy band in the world.” Louis nods. Zayn continues, “For that reason, they can’t bump you off or snatch you away without causing a media uproar. Strategy-wise, you’re at the top of your game right now. And you’ve got us. Me and the boys. If anything happens to you, you can bet that we won’t stay quiet about it,” Zayn crosses his arms and nods, getting fired up at just the thought.

Louis smiles sadly. “Even so, it would be safer not to get involved at all, wouldn’t it?”

Zayn shrugs. “Safer, yeah. Better? Not necessarily.” His gaze becomes gentle. “You deserve to be happy, Lou. You can’t live in fear forever, you know.”

Louis bites his lips. “I am happy.” He is.

The thing is, though, Zayn’s right. Louis is far better off here than he was on the other strange planets he’s been to. Stranded on those, his strategy was to lay low. When he went into hiding someone always found him; when he tried to run he always ended up getting caught. When his craft went down on Earth he knew he’d need a new plan, and thus he auditioned for the X Factor. Now he’s hiding in plain sight. His celebrity status protects him more than staying inconspicuous ever could.

That thought decides him. If he’s to live as a human celebrity, _really_ be indistinguishable from one, he needs to become one in every possible sense. And having a fling with an ostensible radio star is something a human Louis Tomlinson would do. He’s sure of it. It adds to the guise, really – the closer he is to danger, the farther he is from harm. Something like that, anyway.

Zayn waits patiently while Louis is lost in thought. When Louis looks up, he smiles. “Louis?”

Louis’ heart clenches nervously. He’s already decided, but the idea still terrifies him. “I can’t – I can’t trust him.”

Zayn hops off the counter and pulls him into a hug. “He’s not the one you need to trust.” Louis doesn’t quite understand what Zayn means, but his mind is swimming with so many overwhelming thoughts that he doesn’t pay it much mind. Louis takes a deep breath, willing himself to be the kind of person who can accomplish this. He nods, and that’s that.

-

A few nights later Louis finds himself out drinking with the boys. They’re in a highly-priced bar in the city, the kind with coloured drinks that match the upholstery and funny fruits that Louis can’t even name. Some of Harry’s friends are arriving soon. Nick’s going to be with them. Louis is both nervous and a little excited about that, and he keeps himself distracted by paying close attention to the conversation at hand. He has consumed some interesting liquids already. He’s fairly sure that he has a ‘buzz’.

Alcohol is an endless novelty to Louis. They didn’t really have it on his home planet of Varia; the occupants too busy fighting a war they were certain to lose to engage in chemically-induced frivolities. Louis sort of wishes they’d had some, now, as it seems nothing quite takes the edge off long nights and feelings of pointlessness like getting drunk does. But it doesn’t matter – he’s here now, and he thinks he’s just as absorbed by alcohol as it is absorbed in him.

Louis is already feeling heady, maybe. Harry has told him countless times that he’s a ‘lightweight’, but from what he can tell, that only makes it all the more fun. Harry has been attached to the jukebox for half an hour, and Liam and Zayn are discussing a movie that apparently has no superheroes at all. Zayn is relaying the actions of a man in the movie and Liam is nodding along thoughtfully. Louis is periodically interjecting with “and then did he save somebody?” but no one really pays him any mind. They haven’t been approached by many fans so far, and Louis is content to dozily appreciate the feeling beneath his skin.

Niall sits down at the table, grinning with drinks in hand. He places a glass in front of Louis, simply saying “Vodka.”

Louis grins at him in thanks and raises the glass to his lips. _Vodka_. His love. The smell is overpowering in a strange, wonderful way. He takes a few gulps and sets it down, pulling a face at the taste that spreads over his tongue.

He hears Harry calling from across the bar, “Guys! Caroline, Nick! We’re over here!” Three of his limbs are still touching the jukebox, but the other is waving frantically at some people who have just walked through the door. Louis looks over, and yes, Nick is there.

Nick spots him and waves, sparing an answering call to Harry before he comes to sit down at their table. Caroline wanders over to catch up with Harry, who smiles genteelly at her.

Nick flicks Louis’ fringe and sits across from him, grinning. “Hello, there.” Louis purses his lips, refusing to smile. Not yet.

He takes a sip of his drink and sets it down, raising his eyebrows in greeting. “Hey. How’ve you been?”

Nick’s face quirks delightedly. “Can’t complain. Especially not when I’m sitting across from you,” he says, dark eyes dancing.

He really doesn’t waste time, goodness. Louis flushes, quickly getting flustered. He takes another sip and licks his lips, clearing his throat. “Yes. Well. Sit _on top_ of me next time and we’ll see how you feel then.”

Nick laughs in surprised delight. “I’ll take you up on that,” he promises, reaching out to grab some nachos from the bowl in the centre of the table. He turns his attention to the group conversation, then, listening as Niall tries to convince everyone that Irish people are just naturally _taller_ than Brits. Nobody’s buying it. Nick’s eyes keep flickering to Louis.

Louis feels empowered, Zayn’s words from the other day infusing him with a sense of confidence. He reaches over and plucks some nachos from the bowl, letting his hands brush against Nick’s. Nick watches as Louis eats them and licks his fingers. Louis licks his lips as well, probably unnecessarily, and lets his gaze meet Nick’s. He smiles and shrugs, taking another sip of vodka.

The vodka is doing things to him, as he knew it would. He feels hot all over, but it’s not an unpleasant thing. Louis leans over and murmurs so that only Nick can hear him. “If no one else was here, I’d ask you to fuck me on the table.”

Nick chokes on the drink he’s currently sipping and Harry, who’s just come back to the table, calls him a greedy ape. Nick raises his eyebrows at Louis, looking both discomfited and pleased. Louis feels a smug smirk pull at his lips, and allows it.

-

As the night wears on, Zayn keeps a vigilant eye on Louis and Nick. That morning Louis had told the others what he’d told Zayn. They’d all reacted with varying degrees of concern. Louis was determined to make this work, though, and Zayn supports him in that. But he’s still protective of the older boy, and he knows that much of Louis’ current confidence stems from the knowledge that the band is here to back him if he needs it. Unbeknownst to Nick Grimshaw, Zayn is analysing his every move.

Louis has been getting steadily more intoxicated over the course of the night. Zayn should probably have stepped in at some point, but it’s too late by now. Something about Louis’ physiology makes alcohol have a stronger effect on him than it does on humans, and Zayn had miscalculated. In any case, Louis has now been cut off.

Louis is cuddled up with Nick in the corner of their booth, giggling drunkenly into Nick’s shoulder. He’s poking Nick’s face in various places. Nick, who hasn’t had much to drink himself, looks caught between annoyance and fond exasperation. Nick eventually catches Louis’ hand and licks it, earning an indignant whine from the boy.

Louis murmurs something quietly to Nick, and Zayn subtly edges closer. “...bet you’re really big,” he’s saying unabashedly. Eugh, Zayn does _not_ need to hear this. “Bigger than this whole planet, bigger than –”

Zayn kicks Louis hastily under the table and retreats back to Liam before Louis can retaliate. Shit. It dawns on him, like, _really_ dawns on him just how dangerous this could be for Louis. He knew before, but. He’d seen how lonely Louis could get sometimes and just wanted to help. Maybe he’d misjudged this whole thing. He exchanges a worried glance with Harry, Liam and Niall, nodding his head in Louis’ direction.

Louis frowns and tips over to peek under the table, confused as to what could have attacked him so suddenly. He struggles when he tries to get back up, and Nick laughingly uprights him. Louis turns to him with a grateful expression and leans up to slur something in Nick’s ear. “Let’s dance?”

There’s a spacious dance floor up the back, with pulsing music and obnoxious colours. Nick nods, stands and offers Louis a hand. Louis takes it and tugs him impatiently towards the dance floor, nodding his head along to the electronic sounds.

-

Louis is dazzling on the dance floor. Nick imagined that he would be, but not quite like this. He presses against Nick insistently, somehow managing to make it all seem coy. He’s got little hands on Nick’s waist and a warm mouth on Nick’s neck, lapping at the slightly sweaty skin.

He’s also adorably drunk, and Nick keeps a careful arm around him. He’s concerned – though not as much as Louis’ little friends, judging by the looks they’re giving him – and he just, he doesn’t want any of this to go wrong. He doesn’t want Louis to have an accident, so he keeps a steady grip on him and takes note of the lounges nearest to them.

“Wish you could see it,” Louis whispers against Nick’s skin. He’s been murmuring unintelligibly for the past ten minutes now, but Nick just smiles and nods along. It’s a bit funny, and it’ll be even funnier when he gets to tell a more embarrassed, more sober Louis about it later on. “Nicest place, Nick, an’ now it’s _allgone_.” He sighs. “Would’ve loved to take you there.”

Nick cuddles Louis closer to him. “I’m sure you will, darling,” he murmurs soothingly into Louis’ hair, though he has no idea what he’s on about. “I’m sure it’s lovely.”

Louis shakes his head, frowning slightly. “You don’t understand.” He sighs again. “You won’t understand.”

Louis is clearly reaching that stage of drunk where thoughts turn strange and morbid, and Nick isn’t sure that Louis Tomlinson would be quite alright with him hearing his darker thoughts. Not like this, anyway. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he reassures him, though he really has no idea if that’s true, judging by the sounds of things. “There are other places, yeah? I’ll take you to all the pretty places in the world.”

He seals that promise with a kiss to Louis’ forehead. Goodness, he’s turning into a sap. He absolutely cannot tell Emma about this. She’d be so _proud_.

Louis smiles sleepily. “ _Thanksmick_ ,” he mumbles, right before he passes out in Nick’s arms.

“Oh! Okay. Oopsiedaisies,” Nick exclaims, manoeuvring Louis in his grip and carrying him over to the closest lounge. Harry spots them and rushes over.

“What happened?” Harry demands as Nick deposits Louis on the cushions.

Nick smiles and pets him on the head. “Calm down, crumpet, he’s just passed out is all. Will you keep an eye on him while I fetch some water?” Harry whines at the petting but nods, and Nick lopes off to get a pitcher of water. He’s back in seconds, kneeling beside Louis. “Louis?” he says gently.

Louis stirs, thank goodness, and eyes Nick dazedly. “Uh?”

“Got to get some water into your system, love. Here, lean up – let me help you – there, there you go.” Louis manages to drink some water, and Nick feels his own shoulders relax as he does so. He doesn’t get _worried_ , is the thing, but he worries about Louis so much that it scares him.

Nick thinks his relief is probably palpable when Louis gives him a small smile and mumbles “M’hero.” And wow, sober Louis is never going to live that one down.

With Harry’s help, Nick scoops Louis up and begins to walk him out. “I’ll hail a taxi, take him back to yours,” Nick explains.

Harry is watching him curiously. At Nick’s questioning expression, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. Err – will you stay with him for a bit?”

Nick doesn’t understand why Harry’s being such a cautious pet thing, gosh. He rolls his eyes. “Of course, Harold. Anything for you and your little terror.” He says _terror_ so fondly that Harry doesn’t even look offended. In fact, he looks slightly pleased as Nick helps Louis out the door.

Boy-banders work in mysterious ways. Nick generally doesn’t bother questioning it.

-

Louis walks out of his bedroom at 11:30am the following morning, hungover and swamped in jumpers, to find a sleeping Nicholas Grimshaw on his lounge.

He hesitates, confused. Harry is still asleep in his own room, so Louis can’t ask him why Nick is here. He vaguely remembers dancing with Nick last night, and he remembers flirting a _lot_ , and he remembers someone saying something about water. But that’s about it.

Louis is about to poke Nick with his foot when Harry walks in. Harry takes in the scene before him and motions for Louis to stop, so Louis lowers his foot. “What?” he mouths.

Harry pulls him into the kitchen. Once Harry gets two hands on someone it’s not quite enough for him, so Louis is enveloped in a sleepy morning cuddle before he can protest. “What is it?” Louis questions, curling his arms around Harry and nosing the younger boy’s hair.

Harry hums sleepily. “I just wanted to say that, like, I think Nick’s a good guy. The boys and I were worried last night, and we were thinking that maybe we were wrong to encourage you. And you were completely shitfaced, too.” Louis scoffs. “But you should’ve seen him, Louis. He really cares about you. I don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you.” He beams bright-eyed at Louis and nuzzles his face. “You have my blessing. _Our_ blessings, me and the boys.”

Louis tries to think of some witty one-liner to downplay this, but Harry is too sweet and he’s too hungover and he can’t. “Thanks,” he whispers.

“Hmm. Love you,” Harry murmurs, and his hug shifts from _affectionate_ to _attached_. “Make me some waffles?” he asks sleepily.

“I can’t cook,” Louis replies. Harry grumbles until Louis goes to the cupboard. “We’ve got pancake mix?”

“Turn ‘em into waffles,” Harry says unhelpfully. Louis snorts. “Really. Use a magicka-thingemy,” Harry insists, and Louis doubts that he’s properly awake.

Just as Louis is considering prying Harry off with a spatula, Nick walks in. He’s shirtless. Harry smirks. “Nick!” Harry cheers. “Nick can cook!”

Nick purses his lips at Harry fondly. “That I can. Good morning, Harry, pesky as usual, I see.” He looks at Louis and his expressions turns soft. “Morning.”

“Ohuuuhuhouou, _morning_ ,” Harry says gleefully, pulling a mocking expression and taking his evil self over to the stove. He waggles his eyebrows at Louis and mouths “get some.”

Louis pretends not to understand him. He smiles at Nick. “Morning. Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

Nick grins. “No worries, really. I had to practically drag your hefty body up several flights of stairs because the elevator was out of order, but y’know. I rowed in high school, so it wasn’t hard.”

Louis gasps indignantly and Harry cackles, spilling some chocolate cereal puffs that have found their way into his mouth. “Gross, Haz. And I am not _hefty_ ,” Louis hisses, shoving Nick away.

Nick raises his hands, pacifying. “Kidding, love. And for the record you’d be gorgeous even if you were.” Louis rolls his eyes, but smiles. Nick knows he’s forgiven. “Anyway, I’ve got the morning off because the station’s doing some odd special, and it was late when we got back and all, so I kipped here for the night. I hope that’s okay?”

He looks genuinely concerned that maybe it’s not okay, and Louis can feel himself blushing. He rolls his eyes again. “Of course it’s okay, you dope.”

He’s all red and Nick’s just _grinning_ at him and he wishes somebody would do something. Harry sees fit to throw cereal all over everyone, cheering “Yay, everyone’s okay! I have a hangover, let’s watch a movie.”

So they do.

-

They watch the first _Harry Potter_ film and Nick sighs at the juvenility of it all, but Louis knows every word of by heart and he spends the whole time talking along with the characters. Harry dozes off and splays his legs all over both of them. By the end of it Nick is paying full attention. He smiles when Louis turns to look at him, rapt.

“I love this movie,” Louis breathes, and Nick chuckles.

“I can see that, love.”

Louis shakes his head fervently. “No! I _love_ it. It’s a stroke of genius, it’s so – it’s just genius.” He’s breathing harder than he should be, just from watching the story world come to life on the screen.

Nick still looks a bit sceptical, but he humours Louis anyway. “I know it is, and if you like it then I do to.”

Louis scrambles closer and puts his feet in Nick’s lap. “Who’s your favourite character?”

Nick snorts. “Is this an interrogation? Her-mee-own.” Emma always gets exasperated when he pronounces her character’s name wrong. It’s endlessly entertaining.

Louis gapes at him. “It’s _Hermione!_ ” he splutters after a moment, aghast. “She’s literally one of the _three main characters_ , how could you not _know?_ ”

Harry shifts in his sleep. Nick rolls his eyes fondly. “Just stirring you up, love,” he amends. “Can we order some pizza? I don’t feel like moving.”

Louis sighs long-sufferingly and nods, reaching for the phone and the pizza voucher booklet that’s always kept alongside it. It’s easy, this. It’s strange how he and Nick seem to have fallen into step so effortlessly. Louis stretches out and dials the pizza parlour number, thinking _Yeah. I want this. This is nice._

-

Over the next few weeks Louis has no free time, absolutely none. It’s strangely erratic, the life of a pop star. Louis had thought that having a steady income and a secure home might bring some stability into his life, and it does. But not by much. There are still days when he wakes up and his world is spinning. And even though someone in an office somewhere has the next few years of his life planned out to the minute, Louis doesn’t know where he’ll be tomorrow at all.

Judging by the few texts he’s exchanged with Nick, it seems that his life is just as busy. Nick never talks about his job at the agency, of course, but the radio station has big plans for him and Nick complains about his tired bones in almost every text Louis gets. He seems to find a new metaphor for his general disgust at everything in each text, too, which at least keeps Louis giggling through the long rehearsals and longer conferences.

Louis and the rest of One Direction are called to LA, where they’re to fit in some recording before their tour begins in a month. They’re there for two full weeks before they’re thrown on a flight back to England. Louis plays with his phone for most of the flight, while the other boys fall asleep one by one.

Liam is the last to doze off, thirty minutes before touchdown. Louis is adjusting a blanket around the sleeping boy when he gets a text.

He presses his phone and sees that it’s from Nick. He frowns, opening it.

**_From: Nicholas_ **

**_LOUIS I’m in trouble, need ur help :(_ **

**_[Sent 3:13a.m.]_ **

Louis’ heart jolts in fear and he grips the seat handle instinctively. Knowing Nick, ‘in trouble’ could mean anything from being scolded at the radio station to being mortally wounded whilst on his other, more dangerous job. Louis’ sure it’s the former, but anxiety spikes in him anyway. Gritting his teeth, he texts back.

**_To: Nicholas_ **

**_In trouble??? Please elaborate???_ **

**_[Sent 3:14a.m.]_ **

Louis clutches the phone like a vice until it vibrates with another text. He hastily opens it.

**_From: Nicholas_ **

**_Pipe in the kitchen broke, my damn house is flooding._ **

**_The police laughed at me when I called them._ **

**_[Sent 3:16a.m.]_ **

Louis lets out a sigh of relief. Nick is rather horrid. Annoying. Insufferable. He rolls his eyes affectionately and texts back.

**_To: Nicholas_ **

**_Will be there in about forty minutes; try not to drown yourself in the meantime. x_ **

**_[Sent 3:17a.m.]_ **

He receives an answering text a few minutes later.

**_From: Nicholas_ **

**_Thank u please hurry, my slippers are ruined :( they’re Egyptian cotton :(_ **

**_[Sent 3:20a.m.]_ **

Louis presses his lips together, fighting a smile. For a secret agent Nick is really rather helpless.

-

“Nick?” Louis taps loudly on Nick’s front door. He’s only just arrived at the address Nick sent to him in a panicked text. Dawn is beginning to spill into the sky, and water from Nick apartment comes out to greet Louis’ feet. He hasn’t slept. “Nick! Can you hear me?”

There’s a brief silence and then, “Coming!”

A few crashes sound from the house, and Louis steps back as the door is flung open. Nick’s there, hair wild, a manic look upon his face. His eyes widen in something like relief when he sees Louis. “Oh, thank goodness.” He practically throws himself into Louis’ arms. His clothes are damp. His jeans are rolled up to his knees. “The rug’s gone. Louis, the rug’s gone.”

Louis stifles a laugh and pats his back. “Sshh, it’s okay. Show me the damage, then.” He offers his arm and Nick drags him along, traipsing through the house and into the kitchen.

There are a few steps leading up into the kitchen, and water is gushing down them. The water level reaches just above Louis’ ankles. He takes his shoes off, places them on a chair and surveys the state of the room.

Nick has moved all the electric cords up high, thankfully, and switched the power off at the main switch out the front. Nick tells Louis this as they wade around. He’s also moved all the easily movable things up high. But the pipe is still gushing, seemingly irreparable. Nick informs Louis that he’s tried to fix it with duct tape, and Louis giggles a bit. He squats down to peer into the cupboard under the sink, where water is still gushing from the faulty pipe.

Nick squats down next to him. Louis clicks his tongue. “Right. Have you tried calling a plumber?”

“They’re all closed at this hour,” Nick replies.

Louis hums. “Okay. I think we can mend this.” He can see the problem, maybe. He pushes his hair back and rolls his sleeves up, crawling halfway into the cupboard to get a better look. “Aha!” he announces.

“Did you work it out?” Nick says anxiously.

“No. Not yet.” Louis wriggles over. “Here, squeeze in. I want you to hold this section of the pipe steady, yeah?”

Nick takes the pipe segment Louis is talking about and holds it firmly with both hands.

“Good. Now, I’m going to twist this section and push it with my shoulder, and you’re going to keep holding that. And then I’m going to tug really hard and try to pop it back into that section, okay?”

Nick nods. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Louis purses his lips. “Okay.” He grabs his section of the pipe and twists it roughly back into the angle he’s sure it’s supposed to be in. Water sprays Nick in the face and the man splutters. Louis takes no heed, and instead shoves the pipe backwards. He misjudges and slips, landing in the water with a splash. He knocks Nick, who falls alongside him.

“Louis!” Nick roars, though he’s laughing. Louis cackles, almost taking in a lungful of water as he does so. “Shit. Sorry.”

Nick looks up at Louis. He’s drenched in water and his hair is messy. Grease from the pipes is smeared over his cheeks. He looks about as sleep-deprived as Louis feels, laughing with a note of hysteria employed only by the restlessly tired. Water is pouring over them, fuck; it’s crashing over them so quickly that Louis feels half-crazy. But Nick’s brown eyes are dancing with amusement and even as bedraggled as he is, he’s gorgeous.

Louis grapples for Nick’s shirt in the rushing water. On finding it, he tugs Nick closer and kisses him.

Nick’s mouth is warm and his tongue is eager. They’re wet and messy and the house is literally falling apart around them, and Louis thinks this moment is perfect.

The water pouring over their faces makes it hard to continue, so after a few seconds they both pull back for air. A pleasant flush has graced Nick’s cheeks. “Errm.  I mean, ahem. The plumbing?”

“Oh!” Louis bounces upwards, nearly hitting his head on the cupboard’s frame. He scrambles back into place and grabs the pipe, pulling it madly. “Nearly... nearly...” The pipe pops into place. “Got it! Nick, your section!”

“Right!” Nick springs into action, wrestling with his pipe segment and pulling it towards Louis’. Louis pushes his with a grunt and Nick does the same, successfully shoving it in.

The pouring stops. Nick grabs a roll of duct tape and wraps it around the two segments, binding them together. Louis darts forward and turns a little tap at the back of the cupboard. It turns far too easily for a moment, and then it works again.

Louis sits back, stunned. “We did it.”

Nick sloshes over to Louis on hands and knees. He kicks the cupboard door closed with one foot. “I’ve no idea how, to be honest.”

Louis snorts. “Your face is dirty.”

Nick grins, catching Louis’ cheek in his hand. “So’s yours.” His eyes are bright; inviting.

Louis kisses him. His jeans are soaked through; eyes aching from exhaustion, and he kisses him. Morning light is filtering into the kitchen and he kisses him. They’re in a little house in London and early morning light is filtering through the cracked window into the cold, flooded kitchen, and he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

Louis could get used to saying that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I’m sorry for the long wait! I've had the strangest and busiest month. I’m so stressed I could dance with a frog, I’d do it I’d o tiyhtg I’m dancing withn a frof.g  
> (I’m okay)  
> Long story short I need some alien!louis in my life, and if you're reading this then maybe you feel the same way. And if you do then I think you'll find a plentiful helping here! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: To my knowledge, none of the events described herein are actually true.

A few days later, Louis finds himself with free time. The first thing he does is text Nick. That should scare him, but it doesn’t. It couldn’t. Not now. They’ve been so  _good_  since the Kitchen Incident – they’ve been good even longer than that, really. And so, smiling as he lazes on the lounge in his and Harry’s apartment, he pulls out his phone.

Harry notices the look and is upon him in an instant. He stretches a long leg over Louis and dumps himself unceremoniously on top of the older boy. “Who’re you texting?” he mumbles through a mouthful of banana bread.

Louis frowns and kicks him with socked feet. “Not you.”

Harry  _should_  pout at that, but instead he just beams. “You’re texting Nick, aren’t you?”

Louis huffs. “Nope.”

Harry’s grin widens. “You  _are!_ ” He exclaims gleefully, laughing in shock when Louis tickles him. Bits of banana bread fall out of his mouth – missing Louis, thankfully – and he rolls onto the floor. “I’m telling!” Harry crows, scampering out to break the good news to the others.

Louis pulls a face.  _Really_. He opens up a new text addressed to Nick.

**_To: Nicholas_ **

**_I have the day off. See a movie with me?_ **

**_[Sent 9:20a.m.]_ **

He thinks about adding an  _x_ , but withholds. For the moment. His phone buzzes.

**_From: Nicholas_ **

**_Sure babe x what film?_ **

**_[Sent 9:22a.m.]_ **

Louis bites his lip.  _Babe_  is a term of endearment among English-speaking humans. His toes feel warm.

**_To: Nicholas_ **

**_Something with superheroes? x?_ **

**_[Sent 9:23a.m.]_ **

Louis rolls sideways and squirms into the lounge cushions before his phone buzzes again.

**_From: Nicholas_ **

**_I know the perfect one :) I’ll pick you up at ten?_ **

**_[Sent 9:24a.m.]_ **

****

**_To: Nicholas_ **

**_See you then ha. :) x_ **

**_[Sent 9:24a.m.]_ **

****

**_To: Nicholas_ **

**_xxxxx_ **

**_[Sent 9:25a.m.]_ **

****

-

Nick picks Louis up at ten o’clock on the dot. He looks nice in his simple burgundy t-shirt and dark jeans, and Louis can’t resist stretching up to mess with his hair a little bit.

“Oi!” Nick protests, tickling Louis and earning a giggle in return. Louis darts away. “I spent  _time_  on that. Tax payers’ money, I’ll have you know.”

Louis pauses and blinks at Nick, eyes wide. Nick visibly falters. “I-I mean,” he laughs awkwardly, “It’s a figure of speech! You know what I mean.”

Louis shrugs, deciding to let it go. He does know what Nick means, but that’s neither here nor there. He bops Nick on the nose. “Well it looks ridiculous.”

Nick mock-scowls. “ _Ridiculous?_ ” he exclaims. “How very dare you!” They reach the elevator and he presses the button. The doors open instantly.

They walk into the elevator and Louis leans forward, standing up on tiptoes to whisper in Nick’s ear. Two middle-aged women are already inside. “Ridiculous,” Louis murmurs as the doors close, “because I’m tempted to ask you to fuck me on the spot, just from looking at it.”

The silence that ensues is very, very awkward. Louis knows his cheeks are flaming red, but the look on Nick’s face is absolutely worth it.

They reach ground level and Nick announces “Finally!” just as the two women hurry away. Louis squeaks as Nick bursts into delighted laughter. It has him gasping for air and leaning on Louis’ shoulder. “You bastard.”

“You want me,” Louis shoots back, stepping out of the elevator and attempting to quell his own sudden giggles.

Nick jogs to catch up with him. “Is it that obvious, love?”

Louis’ face is still hot, but it’s cooling. Thank goodness. “Yes.”

Nick whispers, “Then it’s a good thing you’re pretty obvious, too,” and pinches Louis’ bum. Louis gasps, scandalised. The rest of their walk to the cinema is occupied by Louis trying to get Nick back while Nick dances away.

The movie is boring. Usually he’d be entranced; usually he’d be watching the guy with the hammer in a state of near-hypnosis. But he spends most of the time giggling into Nick’s shoulder over silly things that Nick whispers to him all the way through. It’s different, but it’s nice.

After the film they forego a fancy dinner in favour of buying corn-dogs and heading to a games arcade. Louis doesn’t  _get_  corn-dogs. They appear to posses neither corn nor canine. They taste good, though, especially when he sneaks a bite of Nick’s.

Nick gasps as if he’s offended, but his facial expression is utterly fond. He loops his arm through Louis’ and steers him in the direction of the games arcade. Louis lights up when he sees it. Before them is a blinking world of brightly-coloured game machines and grinning patrons, mysterious prizes and the light but omnipresent clinking of coins.

Louis so adores games. He used to play them with Stan all the time, back home.

He pauses for a second at the recollection of Stan, overwhelmed momentarily by the memories that wash over him. Nick looks at him curiously, and Louis shakes himself out of it.

“Coming, love?” Nick inquires.

_Love_.  Louis smiles and nods. “Of course,” he replies, leading them forward.

Nick waits in the line to purchase their tickets while Louis wanders from one game to another, eyeing everything with spellbound fascination. When Nick flaps the tickets at him, Louis grabs his hand and makes a beeline for Dance Dance Revolution.

Nick groans. “You are not serious.”

“What?” Louis says innocently. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” He steps up onto the machine, smiling at Nick expectantly.

Nick sighs. He sighs three times; pauses when Louis is still gazing at him with the same sweet expression, and sighs again.

Louis smiles with his teeth, and it becomes rather clear that Nick is not going to win.

“Alright,  _alright_ ,” Nick acquiesces with an eye-roll.

Watching Louis dance is really something. Nick steps onto the dance pad as Louis clambers up alongside him, and Louis starts the game. Nick normally finds Dance Dance Revolution far too childish for his exquisite tastes, but with Louis it’s fun. Louis has a repertoire of quirky little dance moves that Nick has never seen before, and when Nick tries to imitate them Louis bursts out laughing.

They play three games, and by the end of it they’re panting, giggling and poking each other.

Just as they finish, Nick gets a text.

**_From: Emma x_ **

**_Nick can u decode this for me? I’ve done most of it but I’m in a tight spot, some mafia guy’s house, can’t multitask rn. X_ **

**_Sent 1:04pm_ **

Below the message is a photo of a cipher-like bit of text that looks like it was taken in a hurry. Nick excuses himself, saying he’s got to use the bathroom, and pecks Louis on the nose before he goes. Once he’s in the men’s room he locks himself in a cubicle and sets to work deciphering the code.

It doesn’t take long, but by the end of the task he’s anxious to get back to Louis. He finishes up in the bathroom and hurries out.

Nick steps back into the main arcade and looks around for Louis. His heart does a surprised back-flip when he lays eyes on a different familiar face.

Fuck.

 Just  _fuck_. Why is this Nick’s luck? Nick steps back behind a tall game machine before the broad-shouldered man can spot him, and creeps back to Louis as quickly and discreetly as possible.

Louis is buying a box of popcorn. Nick grabs him just as the machine chimes and the box plops into his hands. Nick crouches and pulls Louis down beside him.

Louis looks at him questioningly, eyes wide and mouth opening. “Nick? What –” he begins, but Nick clamps a hand over his mouth.

“ _Sshh_ ,” Nick urges, peeking out at the oblivious fellow that is walking towards them. Shit.

Louis frowns. “Stop messing around,” he huffs, standing back up.

Nick stands as well and whines incessantly, pulling on his elbow. “Louis, I’m not –”

“Nick?”

Shit. Piss. Fuck. Nick turns to the new voice, plastering an obnoxiously bright smile across his face. “ _Tony_ ,” he exclaims. “I didn’t see you there! Hi.”

Louis is glancing confusedly between the two. He faces Tony with a tentative smile. “I’m Louis.”

Tony stares down at him, a snarky eyebrow raised. “I’ve heard,” he drawls, turning his attention back to Nick. “So.  _Nick_ ,” he gushes more brightly, “How’s your little radio show going? I would  _never_  have expected to bump into you here of all places.” He laughs; an overbearing, nasally sound. From his peripherals Nick sees Louis scowl.

“The show’s going fine, thanks,” Nick replies dryly. Louis nibbles his popcorn, watching on. Nick really would like to speak to Tony for as brief a time as possible. He’d also like to fuck Louis on a pool table. “We’re here on a date, so.”

Tony raises his eyebrows and looks at Louis with renewed interest. Judging by the glint in his eyes, it’s the malicious kind. “ _Really?_ ” he drawls affectedly. “Don’t get me wrong, that’s adorable. I’m just surprised, is all. Between you and me, you don’t seem like Nick’s kind.” He delivers the last part in an exaggerated whisper. Louis’ scowl deepens.

“Why is that?” Louis shoots back. His tone and stance become defensive; confrontational. Nick wants to tell him not to bother with Tony. But Louis’ eyes are daring the guy to continue, and he does.

Tony chuckles. “You’re sweet, love, but Nick’s not normally into the naively needy types. He’s too nice to ever say this, but try not to stifle him, yeah?” Louis’ mouth drops open. Tony smiles, pressing salt into the wound. “Nicky here likes to depend on himself, if you can try to understand that. Despite being a high-maintenance pop star and all.”

Louis flushes, his shoulders shooting upwards. Nick opens his mouth to put a stop to this, but Louis cuts in first. “I can depend on myself!” he exclaims.

Tony looks him up and down and laughs. “Oh, babe. You’d be out of your depth in a day.”

Louis’ mouth opens and closes again, and he looks at Nick helplessly. Nick is mentally cursing himself. “Tony, fuck off,” he says bluntly. He gestures with his thumb towards the exit to emphasise his point.

Tony actually looks shocked at that. He presses towards Nick. “ _Nick_ ,” he appeals. “I’m just being realistic here, babe.  _Gosh_ , I was always the pragmatic one. This kid could never hold down a man like you.”

Nick slings his arm around Louis’ shoulder and begins to walk away. Tony hesitates, and then takes a few steps after them. Nick sighs dramatically. “I’m getting the strangest déjà vu here, Louis. Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being followed by a giant bag of crap?”

Tony clicks his tongue angrily. He eyes them for a moment longer and whirls towards the exit.

Once he’s gone, Nick slumps against the photo-booth and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m  _so_  sorry about that, Louis. Tony’s an arsehole. Always has been, from what I know.”

Louis manages a weak smile. “Is he your ex?”

Nick snorts. “Not even. We dated for a few weeks and shagged a lot during that time. That was all there was to it.” Nick had broken it off early because even those few weeks were too serious a commitment for him. It was stressful. He didn’t want to be stressing at night for the sake of a person who told jokes twice when nobody laughed the first time and put vanilla essence in absolutely  _everything_. When Nick had gotten dressed one morning and his underwear smelled like ice cream, he’d decided then and there that that was it.

Louis nods. His arms are crossed tightly around himself. “Okay.”

Nick hums, taking Louis’ face in his hands. Louis doesn’t look at him. “Louis.” Still no response. “Louis. Hey.” Nick leans in and breathes against his ear. “Talk to me.”

Louis’ facade crumples. He buries his face in his hands. “He doesn’t know anything about me,” he gripes in a small voice.

“I know,” Nick murmurs, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

“You like me,” Louis mumbles, and Nick kisses his forehead.

“I do,” he agrees. “Very much.”

Louis curls up against him and Nick enfolds Louis in his arms. Months ago it might have surprised him; the anger that he feels coursing through his body. But now it doesn’t seem surprising at all.

Nick kisses Louis’ hair and thinks that he really loves this boy.

-

Louis feels lost.

As they walk home from the arcade Nick insists on carrying Louis on his shoulders, because Nick is ridiculous. Louis obliges anyway, beaming and making Nick wobble this way and that just because he can. Nick cackles; whines  _‘Louis’_  and turns around for a peck on the cheek. Louis gives him five, nuzzling against his skin snugly enough to see the pores there.

But it all feels far away – it’s like Nick and Nick’s world are far off in the distance, and Louis is barred from them by a sea of expansive black. It’s like the happy, brave Louis that he wants to be is just a dot; a light he thought he saw in his peripheral vision like the ghost of a shooting star. It’s like he’s still lost on a hopeless grey planet somewhere; like Nick is burning burning  _burning_  calling Louis to where he wants to be and Louis is just staring out into space.

-

Later that week, Nick finds a lead.

He’s at home in his Secret Room going over sheets of information on metallurgy. Specifically, metals not commonly found on Earth. Emma has told Nick that he doesn’t have to refer to it as his  _Secret Room;_  that ‘workshop’ would suffice (and probably sound far less tempting to any hypothetical eavesdropping ears). The name helps put Nick in the mood, though, and he’s sticking with it.

At the centre of the Secret Room is a multifaceted cabinet containing all the primary sources relevant to Nick’s case. Most of them are things that he’s found at various sites; a few of them, he thinks, that might really be useful. Spinning on his chair, he rolls idly over to it and pulls out the piece of soft material that fascinates him the most.

There are bits of strange metal inlaid in it. These are the pieces Nick has tried time and time again to identify. They’re not the most interesting part, though – that, Nick believes, is the material itself. It’s so soft, like dilute mist skimming the edges of a cloud. Nick has sometimes sat in a trance for hours, just stroking it.

He doesn’t do that now. Instead, he snatches from his desk a device that Emma sent him in a little package simply labelled  ** _x_**. It’s a reader that apparently detects only one type of compound; a rare compound that has previously been linked to purported extraterrestrial activity. Nick doesn’t know the name of the compound and he doesn’t care – he simply calls it the Rio Compound, because according to Emma the guy who invented the device was murdered there.

Nick thinks  _Rio Compound_  is catchy, really.

He turns the reader on just for the heck of it, just to see if he’s got any Rio Compound in here. He spins on his chair, thinking. He’s going to learn to sew. He’s going to learn to sew, and then he’s going to make himself the comfiest pair of underpants on planet Earth. Courtesy of whichever strange creature made this fancy cloth, of course. Nick loves aliens.

For fuck’s sake, something is beeping.

Nick frowns, looking down at the device in his hands. It’s going wild.  _Shut up_ , he thinks at it.

His heart jolts a second later when the significance of the beeping dawns on him.

In his shock he nearly drops the reader, but catches it just in time. He waves it in the direction of his cabinet. The reading is highest when it’s closest to the cloth.

There are traces of the Rio Compound in Nick’s soft underwear cloth.

Nick stands up. He turns off the device and shoves it and the cloth in his bag (after wrapping them both up carefully, of course). The thing is, Nick remembers the night he found the cloth. He remembers it more vividly than any other night in all his years of doing this job. And  _yeah_ , Nick thinks,  _this could really be something_.

For the first time in a long time, Nick feels passion for this line of work flaring up inside him. Motivation is rearing its head. He has a lead.

-

Meanwhile, in a studio not far away, Niall is standing on his head.

Liam holds his feet up amiably, commending his work. He checks his watch. “And... two minutes! Think you can make it to three?”

Zayn rolls his eyes from the sofa. “You’re going to make yourself sick,” he advises. Niall just grins at him.

“Not me!” Niall chirps, kicking until Liam complains. Liam lets go and Niall lands on his feet, cheering loudly. He slaps Liam and Liam runs into the door of the vocal booth that Harry is currently singing inside. The impact produces a loud  _thump_. Liam bounces off, giggling. Seconds pass, and from behind the door they hear an indignant “ _Hey_.”

Underneath Zayn’s legs, Louis watches on in near silence.

Louis stirs uncomfortably when Niall’s attention falls on him, and the Irish lad comes bounding over. “Y’alright, Louis?” he inquires, sitting on the arm of the sofa and tickling the spot behind his ear.

Louis wriggles away. “I’m fine,” he replies, smiling up at Niall.

He is. Or at least, he should be. He shouldn’t be thinking over what Tony said days ago. He knows that he shouldn’t even care. Louis is not dependent; he’s not naive. He knows things about survival that Tony could never understand. Therefore, Tony is wrong.

He  _knows_  that, but he still feels like maybe on some level Tony is right. Like maybe up until now he’s just been riding by on good luck, and this time he really is out of his depth.

Like maybe, with Nick, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Liam gallops over and drops himself onto Louis’ lap, earning a hiss from Zayn. Zayn snatches his legs away before Liam’s bottom can damage them. Niall clambers onto the pile, hollering for Harry to come and join.

“What’s on your mind?” Liam murmurs into Louis’ ear.

Louis shrugs. “I’m not – like. I feel a bit out of my element.”

“With Nick?”

Louis nods, pursing his lips and giving a tight shrug.

Harry has joined them from behind, and he drops down beside Louis. “Maybe you should tell him who you are,” he suggests as if it’s easy. As if Louis can just  _tell_.

But then isn’t that what he wants? To live like the kind of person who has no trouble with these things?

Harry hums and nibbles Louis’ ear affectionately, and in Louis’ mind the idea begins to whir. He could tell Nick about his origins. He could.

-

Nick enjoys spiders. He particularly enjoys the one that is dangling by his boss’ head right now. Nick can see it in the corner of his Skype window. It has legs going on for days. Nick knows that that phrase is normally used in reference to fit people, but he thinks it’s more appropriate for spiders. The long-legged kinds, of course.

Louis has cute little pins, and looks nothing like a spider at all. Nick enjoys  _him_  for different reasons. He enjoys him quite a lot.

“Nick, are you listening?”

“Yes, sir!” Nick replies, more loudly than he needs to. He’s actually listening more than he usually does. This Skype meeting is kind of important. It’s also kind of interesting.

The spider is swinging now. It’s an athletic little spider. It’s going to swing itself right onto the boss’ balding head.

“Good. Nick, I know you’ve been getting restless in this agency for a while, and I’ll be blunt with you. This case is getting stagnant in your hands. But thanks to your recent discovery, we might actually make some kind of progression with it. So, I’m giving you an opportunity. If you can make a significant advancement in this case within a month’s time, you can resign with a bonus package.”

Nick’s eyebrows shoot upwards. His eyes snap to the boss. “What kind of bonus package are we talking about?”

“Ten million pounds.”

“ _Ten million_  –” Nick has to stop and clamp a hand to his jaw, breathing heavily for a second. Ten million pounds.

Nick composes himself. He smiles. “Understood, sir. I’ll have the job done by then. I won’t let you down.”

The boss eyes him sternly. “Good. Don’t.”

The Skype call ends and Nick lunges of his chair to grapple for his phone, snatching it off the table. Ten million pounds. He’s got to tell Louis about this. He opens a new message, typing out a quick text. He’ll tell Louis about the job, about everything, tonight.

**To: Louis**

**Want to have dinner out tonight? I’ll pick you up at yours at 7?**

**[Sent 3:13pm]**

Louis’ response sends his heart thrumming.

**From: Louis**

**Sure. :) x**

**[Sent 3:17pm]**

-

When Louis meets Nick for dinner at seven, he’s frazzled with nerves. Nick notices this and is extra cuddly on the way to the restaurant, carding his fingers through his hair and pressing soothing kisses to his cheek. A passer-by says that they’re cute. They  _are_ cute. Nick beams at the compliment as they stop outside the restaurant. His eyes sparkle at Louis as he takes out a blindfold and wiggles it. He raises his eyebrows. “May I? It’s nothing weird, I promise. Boy Scout’s honour.”

Louis snorts. “You were never a Boy Scout.”

Nick laughs. “And I regret it every day.” Louis allows him to tie the blindfold around his head, and Nick is gentle as he does so. Louis’ heartbeat picks up at the darkness for a moment, but then Nick’s hands are on his back and Nick is steering him carefully into the restaurant.

The doorbell tinkles as they step inside. Nick rubs Louis’ shoulders and takes his blindfold off.

Louis has come to learn that restaurants are places where humans go to eat expensive and sometimes ghastly foods, murmuring at small tables in small groups and talking occasionally to the wait staff. He’s come to learn that they’re among Nick’s favourite places. And he’s also learned, from Harry, that they’re ‘very romantic’.

This one, though.

This restaurant is something else entirely. Old oyster shells and barnacles crust the walls, and stalagmites hang from the ceiling. The restaurant is lit by a soft blue glow, and if Louis listens closely he can hear the sounds of the ocean playing in the background. They’re in an underwater world. It’s beautiful.

Nick takes Louis’ silence for what it is and leans down to whisper in his ear. “I knew you’d like it, darling.”

Louis’ heart sinks and leaps and does double back-flips, because Nick is too much. Louis is terrified, of everything, really, and he feels like he’s trying to tread water when he’s in deeper than he’s ever been. But he loves this. Happiness floods his system before he really allows it to. His mouth turns upwards into a smile, and he nods vigorously. “It’s lovely.”

Nick beams, his smile this mixture of lazily confident and completely fucking doting. “The colour of the place really brings out your eyes.”

Louis’ mood sinks a bit. He just, he can’t understand what Nick means. Why,  _why_  would Nick suggest that his eyes be ‘brought out’? He knows it’s probably just another strange human expression that the boys could explain in an instant, but there’s a small part of him that wonders if Nick really does want to extract his eyeballs. And he hates it. He hates that one confrontation with a stranger – a petty ex, of all people – has proven enough to make him feel like this again. He hates the doubting part of himself that has clawed its way back up to the surface.

Louis feigns a smile as they are seated by a waitress who beams at Nick as if she knows him. It’s probably the nicest spot in the restaurant. Nick really went all out for this. After they order some seafood, Nick pokes him. “You alright, love?”

Louis nods tightly. Actually, it’s been a bit of a stressful day. He’s feeling a bit defensive because a creature called a Jake Bug has been slagging One Direction off in an article. He isn’t completely sure what a  _Jake Bug_  is, and he certainly hadn’t known that this planet’s exoskeletons were developed enough to be creating indie music, let alone passing judgement on other kinds of music. When it happened Louis had panicked and rushed to consult his data drive’s Encyclopaedia of Earthly Organisms, fretting over the possibility that his zoological knowledge could be so wrong. Harry had had to explain to him that a Jake Bug was actually a kind of human because it had an extra ‘g’ in its surname, but that had left Louis more confused than ever. He’d settled for tweeting a rhetorical question to the creature, and hoped that that would be enough to persuade it to leave them alone.

Niall, of course, had found the whole debacle hilarious. He’d instantly taken to calling indie music ‘Insect Music’ and replacing the word ‘hipster’ with the phrase ‘overgrown exoskeleton.’ He and Zayn had even gone so far as to buy Louis a skeleton t-shirt as a sort of cultural gift. Louis had screamed at the sight of it and spent the rest of the afternoon in his room, crying. Liam had eventually come in and given him cuddles (while admonishing the other boys as ‘truly cruel’) and that had more or less been the end of it.

Louis hopes.

So, wary and skittish, Louis plays with the napkins at their table. Nick probably isn’t an insect subspecies, but he just doesn’t know anymore. Nick  _is_  still a government agent, though. Louis still knows that. Louis clears his throat. “Yeah, sorry. Just tired.”

Nick hums sympathetically and kisses the knuckles on Louis’ hand one by one. Louis gives a small smile, but inwardly he’s so confused. Part of him wants to tell Nick the truth; wants to look him in the eyes and say  _I want you to know who I am_. And the other part of him is desperate to run the other way.

They order a seafood platter and white wine. Nick is more intimate than usual, swapping his easygoing banter with meaningful glances and trusting smiles.

Nick spills stories and pretty phrases from his mouth while Louis nibbles at the crabs and calamari. Nick’s eyes are so dark that Louis feels like he could curl up in them, but he glances away, second-guessing his every instinct. It’s just that he can’t stand the not  _knowing_  anymore. He doesn’t want to feel unsure every time Nick brushes his fingers against him. He doesn’t want to stay stuck in this place.

Patting his mouth with his napkin Louis decides. He’s going to tell Nick everything. The tension feels like it’s rotting now; far past its expiry date. Louis is done with it. He’s going to tell Nick the truth. Tonight.

While Louis comes to this decision, Nick chats happily about Aimee and her few terrible experiences in babysitting. He leans forward in his seat as he tells the latest tale. “So Aimee’s on the roof, okay, with no skirt on and some old man’s jogging shoes slung around her neck. And there’s  _still_ egg yolk all over the parents’ bedroom floor, and the kid – the kid’s gone. He’s just fucking gone, and no-one on the street will tell her where he went because they all fucking hate her. So what does she do?”

Nick is grinning expectantly at Louis. Louis smiles back reflexively. “I don’t know, babe. What  _does_ she do?”

Nick slaps his hands against the table. “She sees the mailman! So she takes the shoes, yeah? And then –  _schwoop_.” Nick motions grabbing shoes from around his neck and throwing them across the room. Louis giggles, picking at his barramundi.

Nick continues the story, talking animatedly and beaming fondly at Louis the whole time. It’s almost as if he’s leading up to something, but Louis doesn’t quite know what. Louis does his best to pay attention. But as the night goes, on he feels the anxiety of his decision jabbing unpleasantly in his gut. He knows that telling Nick is going to be a relief. But right now the weight of it is making him feel almost ill.

Louis forces down one more slice of fish, and seconds later his throat burns and his stomach feels as though it’s about to cave in on itself. It’s agonisingly painful. Louis gasps from the shock of it, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Nick is immediately concerned. “Louis?” he exclaims, dropping his fork and reaching across the table to take Louis’ other hand. “What’s wrong, love?”

Louis stares at him wide-eyed. His vision is wavering at the edges, but fuck, he’s stupid. He’s so, so  _stupid_. Taking a pained breath, Louis mumbles, “I don’t feel very well.”

Nick coos in sympathy, standing up to wrap his coat around Louis. He leaves money with their bill, probably. Louis isn’t sure. Nick gingerly helps Louis up and leads him out of the restaurant. By the time they hit the cold night air, Louis is shivering violently.

Nick presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead and goes to flag down a taxi. But the second Nick releases his grip on him, another harsh stab of pain goes through Louis’ abdomen. He ends up clutching the streetlight pole just to stay upright. Louis knows what this is, and he’s stupid. He should have expected something like this.

Nick is back at his side in an instant. “Lou?” he says worriedly, pushing Louis’ fringe back to study his face. He worries his lip, deliberating. “I’m taking you to a hospital,” he says decisively.

“No!” Louis protests, struggling away from him. “No, you can’t –”

Nick sounds dumbfounded. “You’re  _sick_ , I can and I will –”

“ _No!_ ” Louis shrieks, pressing his fists over his eyes. He knows his protests must seem ridiculous to Nick. He gets that. But he can’t visit a human hospital with his Varian physiology, and human doctors wouldn’t be able to help him anyway. He knows – he knows exactly what this is. The problem right now is that he just can’t  _think_. Louis takes a ragged breath in and out. “Please, just – can you please take me to Harry instead? He’ll know what to do.”

Nick looks extremely dubious at the suggestion that a teenage pop star will know what to do with a very sick person. But something in Louis’ gaze must persuade him, because he sighs. “Alright, love,” he agrees reluctantly.

The taxi ride back to Louis’ and Harry’s place seems to go both quickly and slowly. Louis tucks himself into Nick’s side, shivering under his arm and trying to focus on anything other than the sharp pains that are wracking his body. Nick is quiet but tender, kissing Louis’ hair and stroking his fringe away from his clammy forehead. A few of Louis’ hair tendrils flutter towards Nick reactively, but Nick doesn’t seem to notice. His worry sits thickly in the air, making the ride feel potent, like electricity.

Nick helps Louis up to the top floor of the complex, where the apartment is situated. Louis finds his keys with trembling hands. Harry opens the door just before he can use them. Harry’s mouth opens when he sees their state, and he frowns in concern. Louis half-collapses into his arms. “What happened?” Harry asks Nick.

Nick shrugs, pressing his lips together and running a hand through his hair. “He started feeling sick. I wanted to take him to the hospital – but he wanted me to bring him here? I’m sorry, I –”

Harry shakes his head; expression understanding. “No, it’s okay. You did the right thing.”

Louis musters the energy to turn and face Nick. “Thank you,” he murmurs with a small, regretful smile. “I’m sorry about tonight.” He takes a breath. “It’s probably best if you go now.”

Nick’s eyes widen as hurt registers. He’s still so frustratingly  _concerned_ , though, putting Louis’ welfare far above his pride. “Okay? If that’s best? Are you – will you be okay?”

His brow furrows, and Louis can’t do this, and Louis curses himself in every language he knows as he shuts the door softly but firmly in Nick’s face. “Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

And then the door is closed and it’s over.

Harry catches Louis as his knees buckle and he lets out a reluctant whimper of pain. “What’s wrong?” Harry whispers. He supports Louis as they walk towards the attic, where Louis keeps his makeshift lab. The attic entrance is situated at the back of Louis’ bedroom. Harry pulls down the door and the little unfolding staircase, and Louis clambers wobblingly up.

“I had a bad reaction to the food,” Louis mutters. “I should have anticipated something like this happening. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, really.” He laughs mirthlessly. He’s lucky that his physiology is similar enough to a human’s that he can tolerate most of a human’s diet. He shouldn’t have gotten to thinking that he’d be able to tolerate it all.

Harry bites his lip. “Do you have –“

“I have medicine, yeah,” he replies wearily. Louis’ medical kit is one of the few things that has survived and stayed with him crash after crash; yet another sign of his excellent luck.

He doesn’t feel very lucky right now. Harry hovers worriedly as Louis retrieves the right vial of medicine and retreats back to his bed. Louis huffs, glancing at Harry pleadingly. “It’s going to make me throw up. Can you. Can I have some privacy, please?”

Harry nods, looking sad as he squeezes Louis’ shoulder and hurries out of the room. Harry closes the door behind him. Louis slouches over to the attached bathroom and settles down. He sighs, swallowing the medicine in one gulp.

-

Louis pulls away completely after that.

Physically he’s fine, but he lets people think he’s still sick just so that he doesn’t have to leave the vicinity of his bedroom. He doesn’t call Nick and doesn’t answer Nick’s calls. He doesn’t text at all.

He knows that he’s hurting Nick’s feelings. He  _knows_. He doesn’t even try to justify it to himself. Dating Nick was a bad idea from the beginning, and he knows now that it was always an impossible dream. It was ridiculous, really, thinking that he could lead some semblance of a normal or honest life with Nick. He can’t. They can’t. He gets it; he knows that now.

He was actually going to reveal to Nick his true identity that night. What a disaster that would’ve been. It scares him that he came that close; that he very nearly made the mistake that he’s been dreading making since he came to Earth.

Louis spends the next few days and nights feigning sickness, hating himself for how he’s treating Nick and hating himself for falling for Nick in the first place. He spends them in his pyjamas, huddled under piles of blankets with tea and crumbly biscuits. It’s not the lowest he’s ever been, but it’s low.

On the fourth day of Louis’ moping, Harry crawls into bed with him. The boy slips his arms around Louis’ waist, tucks his face into the back of Louis’ shoulder and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Louis frowns, shaking himself out of the half-asleep daze he’d been in. “Why are you sorry, H?” he asks, rolling around to face him.

Harry’s lip trembles. His eyes are shining but he holds Louis’ gaze anyway, as if he needs Louis to know how sorry he is. “Sorry that I meddled in the first place. Sorry for causing you to feel like this.”

If Louis’ heart wasn’t thoroughly broken before, it’s definitely breaking now. “Oh, no, sweetheart,” he shushes, tugging Harry close to him. He squeezes him tightly. “It’s not your fault. Everything I did was though my own choosing, okay? It’s  _my_ responsibility to be more careful about these things. You boys have been so wonderful, taking me in despite everything and always keeping my secret. Looking out for me time after time. Don’t blame your sweet self for anything, alright? I love you boys.”

Harry sniffles. “Love you too,” he murmurs.

Louis tousles Harry’s hair and sighs. “I’m the one who fucked things up,” he says quietly. “Silly old me. I should’ve learned not to by now.”

Harry pouts like he wants to argue, but seems to realise that it’s useless. Instead he hugs Louis tighter. Louis buries his face into Harry’s jumper and just allows himself to be held.

The worst part in all of it is that Louis feels, in the lining between the muscles in his heart, that Nick is a keeper. He feels there that Nick would never do anything to hurt him. But he knows in his mind that it can’t be true.

-

Louis doesn’t see Nick for three weeks.

He finds that there are suddenly spaces in his existence – little gaps that used to be filled with Nick, like the distances between stars. He has more free time, but he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. The lifestyle of a pop star is rarely restful, but during his brief bout of sickness the boys rallied against management and procured more free time than they actually need.

It’s a welcome break for all of them. They spend a lot of it together. But when the other boys are visiting their families, Louis scours shops and libraries and tourist attractions in search of things to do.

He ends up socialising a lot with the fans, which is actually lovely. He likes the way they tell him jokes and compliment his hair. He likes their hugs, and he likes it when they tell him their stories. He mucks around with them and takes countless pictures, and it’s a part of the job that he loves.

On a Thursday morning he’s choosing cupcakes in a coffee shop and getting a brief respite from the fans’ attention when he bumps into Nick.

Literally bumps into him. Louis is nibbling a cupcake with a swirl of greenish-blue icing, when somebody’s chest is unexpectedly pressed against his face. He looks up, and the  _somebody_  is Nick.

Louis squeaks and jumps back. He looks down at his cupcake. “Um. Hi.”

Nick’s feet shuffle. The movement is hesitant but inquisitive. Louis doesn’t want to see the expression on his face. “Lou! Hi? How are you feeling?”

Louis feels himself blush. “I’m fine.” Suddenly there’s a finger brushing his nose, and Louis looks up to see Nick grinning cautiously down at him.

Nick waves the finger in the air and licks a bit of icing off it. “Icing on your nose,” he explains.

Louis blinks. “Um.”

“So.” Nick shrugs. “If you’re  _fine_ , love, why’ve you been avoiding me?” His tone is still gentle, laughing almost, but the real question is there.

“Well – you see, I’m in this band,” Louis hedges, because his neurons are abruptly screaming  _no_. He can’t physically have this conversation. “We’re quite busy, and –”

“Louis.”

Louis shoves his entire cupcake into his mouth. He looks up at Nick and gestures to it madly. “Rrrrnnhh.”

Nick’s wonderful patience runs out. He huffs and runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “ _Louis_. Please.”

Louis removes the ruined cupcake from his mouth, almost stimulating his gag reflex as he does so. He sets it down on the plate of an elderly woman who’s passing by. She shrieks in disgust and hits him with her bag, stomping off. Louis worries his lip. “I don’t. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Nick’s eyes widen and he almost sways backwards, and. Louis didn’t think he would take it  _this_  hard. Nick covers his mouth with his hand and just stares at Louis. Louis hates himself more and more by the second.

“I-I mean,” he says quickly, “not as more than, uh, friends. I still want to be friends?” Louis trills in frustration at himself before biting back a series of words Nick wouldn’t understand; struggling not to revert to his native language in the heat of the moment. He gazes at Nick in appeal. “Okay?”

Nick blinks. He nods, and he’s collected again in an instant. “Sure,” he shrugs, radio persona oozing out of him. “That’s fine, love. I just wish you’d told me sooner,” he laughs. “I could’ve spent this time getting shagged.” Louis presses his lips together and looks away. He’s not going to cry. Nick’s gaze lingers on him for a few moments longer before the man turns to depart. “Bye, Louis.”

Louis works his lips into some semblance of a smile, lasting only for a second. “Bye, Nick.”

Nick leaves, and it’s over. They’re done.

-

_A small planet exists on the outskirts of the galaxy; red in appearance and glimmering as brightly as day. Not long ago, it was known by its inhabitants as Varia. Those people are scattered now._

_Louis was a Varian, and he was just a teenager when the Evacuation took place._

_Their planet had been at war for decades. The enemy was a large empire; the kind that encroached upon inhabited planets and seized them for their own. The Varian population, in contrast, was small. In the past few years the war had taken a turn for the worse. Now every able Varian was contributing to the military effort; a peoples’ final struggle to survive. Louis’ parents were medics for the military. On the day the enemy finally prevailed, they and Louis’ sisters were living near the Main Camp. They Evacuated with the others. Somewhere, at some stage, they possibly found safety._

_Louis was on a special operation at the time. He was staying near the ice sheets to the south, and he was alone when he saw the triumphant enemy aircrafts darkening the sky. He was alone when he uncovered a small spacecraft in the hidden south base and fled, going in a direction opposite to the one that his people had taken. His tiny craft was swept up in a fleet, and after many days and nights he found himself in an unfamiliar part of the galaxy. He lost contact with his family. But still, he was doing okay._

_Then his craft began to malfunction. Louis had only had basic training in spacecraft maintenance, and he crash-landed several times. The first few times he was lucky – he landed in places uninhabited by technologically advanced life-forms, and he was able to make repairs and take off without too much trouble._

_The fourth time he went down, he encountered a civilisation more advanced than Varians. He was caught; strapped down; studied. Injected. His mind later blocked most of those memories out._

_Louis managed to escape and flee that planet, but the same thing happened again and again. He took to hiding in forests, atop glaciers, in deserts and lagoons. It didn’t matter. Someone always tracked him down. Someone always found him._

_He got better at escaping. In a stroke of wildly good luck, he crash-landed on Earth. He found, to his elation, that humans looked and functioned similarly enough to Varians that he could remain here relatively inconspicuously. Perhaps he could live here for long enough to fix his craft properly and regain contact with his people._

_Still, Louis didn’t want to take any risks. He needed a new safety plan; something drastically different to just lying low. He also needed a place to stay and a way to make a living. So he auditioned for a human talent contest. He got through, and Earth became his second home._

-

Zayn has excellent taste in carpets.

The carpet in Zayn’s bedroom is softer than cashmere. It probably  _is_  cashmere, in which case Louis supposes it is as soft as cashmere. Anyway, it absorbs tears brilliantly, and Louis doesn’t even feel particularly guilty for moping all over it.

He’s nestling his face deeper into the carpet and feeling truly miserable when a person walks into the room. The person nearly trips over him. “Louis?”

Louis snuffles an incoherent response. Zayn sits down next to him. “Oh, Lou.” Zayn rubs his back and cuddles close to him, not complaining that Louis is on his carpet. Zayn is nice. Louis supposes that Zayn texts the other boys at some stage, because soon Niall, Harry and Liam are piling in. Liam brings chocolate and Niall wolfs down half of it. Harry tries to coax Louis into eating a piece. All four of them hug him, and they each take turns carding their fingers through his responsive hair.

“I broke up with Nick,” Louis confesses into Liam’s neck as night falls.  _Break up:_   _cease relations._  Liam murmurs in understanding, hugging Louis tighter. They’re still sprawled about in Zayn’s bedroom, now watching Louis’ favourite sitcoms. The boys make silly jokes and touch Louis in little ways, just because they know he likes it.

Humans really are extraordinarily like Varians. It’s uncanny. Louis mostly puts it down to similar environments; similar evolutionary paths. But sometimes, he likes to think that maybe they’re distantly – very distantly – related. That maybe there’s a small part of him that belongs here.

On most nights he cuddles Harry, licks Niall’s face, laughs with Zayn, teases Liam and feels like he belongs right here anyway. But on other nights he can’t walk into an occupied room without wanting to shy away; to curl up in the darkest hole while the weight of the lonely universe crushes in on him. On those other nights, it helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and talk to me on tumblr? I'm now at tipsy-louis.tumblr.com. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! :) This is the final chapter of this story and I'm so, so excited to be finally posting it. I'm also really sorry that it's taken so long! I was super busy with uni, and then some issues developed with my hands and I was instructed to rest them (which is just impossible to do during the semester). But hooray, it's finally done! I hope you enjoy it. xx

Nick throws himself into his work with full force. On the radio he’s snarky, jokes crueller; one morning even prompting an inquiry from Fincham regarding the various things that might have crawled up his butt. But at his real job, he’s diligent. He finally has motivation to be – _ten million pounds_ of it – and without Louis in his life, he somehow has plenty of time.

He isn’t heartbroken. Not even a bit.

It’s Saturday. He’s spending the evening driving around with the Rio Compound reader to see if he can pick up anything. The reader is able to detect the compound from a great distance away, it seems, and the needle has been on a low (but not zero) reading for days. It means that there are traces of the compound here in the city, or at the least somewhere fairly close to it.

Nick keeps driving as the sky darkens. His eyes are tired, his mind carefully blank. He doesn’t think about Louis. He focuses on street signs, vaguely noting the names of the places he passes while the needle on the reader grows slowly but surely higher.

It’s only when he hears screams in the distance that Nick begins to truly pay attention to where he’s going. They’re not frightened screams. There’s a crowd, and they’re cheering in unmistakeable excitement. Nick looks up and realises he’s nearing an arena. The needle on the reader gets higher the further he drives.

Nick pulls over in a back alley, just off to the side of the arena. He changes into standard security gear; the kind they always use at places like this. He takes out his laptop and logs into the Agent Database, checking to see if there’s any documented way to sneak in. Predictably, a map of the venue comes up with a path marked out. (Most major event venues in London have been visited and mapped by agents. It’s standard procedure.)

Nick steps out of the car. He locks it up and makes his way towards the arena, where the high-pitched screams are getting increasingly irritating. _Who the heck is playing here, anyway?_ he wonders idly.

He gets closer to the crowds and sees the promo boards towering over hordes of teenage girls.

Oh.

Nick raises his eyebrows, taken aback for a moment. He shakes his head and proceeds towards a back door. No matter. Nobody questions his dark uniform and he slips inside easily, looking around the place and giving a low whistle.

Nick takes the reader from his pocket, looking down to find that the needle has finally spiked to a more telling height. He paces ten metres to his left, and finds that it lowers a bit. He paces fifty metres to his right, and it spikes much higher.

He continues in that direction and finds that it leads him backstage.

Odd. Nick doesn’t really want to waste time mulling over that, though. It’s best to just get the job done and analyse the results afterwards.

He traces the compound to a hallway almost directly below the stage. No. Nick doesn’t want to be here. He turns a corner and sees Louis and Harry, no no no, he can just come back later –

“Nick!”

Harry sees him and waves brightly. Nick freezes. He catches sight of Louis, who hangs back awkwardly while Harry gallops over. Nick grimaces. Okay, it looks like he’s doing this.

Harry stops before him. “Nick! What are you doing here? Are you doing a radio thing?” Harry enfolds him in a hug, squeezing tightly. Nick is hit with sudden gratitude for the boy. Judging by the way Harry nuzzles him for just a bit longer than usual, he’s been concerned for Nick after the break-up as well.

Nick ruffles his hair. “I came by to wish you luck, silly. So, luck.”

Harry laughs and pulls back, turning to glance at Louis for a moment before his eyes widen suddenly. “Oh, shit – Lou’s waiting for me in make-up, I totally forgot – I better go, thanks for coming, Nick! Hang around after the show, yeah?”

Harry hurries off before Nick can even protest, and suddenly it’s just him and Louis alone in the hallway.

Louis stares at him dubiously. He sighs and comes over. His hair is soft; his movements hesitant but graceful. He looks sad, maybe, but still good. He always looks good. Nick forgets about the device in his hand, offering a Louis a small wave.

Louis smiles slightly and stops in front of him. “Hi.”

Nick laughs breathlessly. “Hi, pop star.”

Louis gives him a careful appraisal. Then his expression goes funny. He widens his eyes at Nick and sneezes.

Nick laughs in proper surprise, because it’s just so cute. “Shut up,” Louis murmurs, wiping his nose. The reader in Nick’s hand has started beeping madly all of a sudden, and Nick glances down at it to see that the needle is almost off the chart.

His heart speeds up in realisation. He looks up at Louis, mouth agape.

Louis raises a dainty eyebrow at him. “What?”

The reader is still beeping. Bizarrely, Nick has a feeling that it’s not wrong. “It’s _you_!” he shrieks.

Louis rolls his eyes and laughs nervously. “What’s me?” At Nick’s expression he shrinks back, and that and the note of fear in his voice tell Nick everything.

“You’re – you’re –” Nick gestures hopelessly, at a loss for words.

Louis squeaks and grabs Nick’s arm, pulling him hastily into a dressing room and closing the door behind them. He stays close to the door, hand on the knob.

Nick gawks at him. “You’re the alien.”

Louis winces. “I’m a _Varian_. Yes.” Louis isn’t facing Nick. His voice is tight. He’s pale, gaze darting everywhere; little chest taking shaky breaths.

“You’re an alien!” Nick exclaims, absolutely not comprehending this.

He looks up at Nick. “Not so loud!” he hisses. Then hesitates. “Please.”

It’s almost a beg. He’s shaking so badly that Nick forgets the recent revelation for a moment, feeling shocked for a completely different reason. “Shit, Louis. I’m not going to _hurt_ you.”

Louis half-sobs at that. He sits down on the lounge. He pats the spot beside him, and Nick sits.

Louis stares at his lap, taking deep breaths. He says quietly, “I guess you probably want me to explain.”

Nick makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a laugh. “Um. _Yes_.”

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. His hair flutters despondently. “I know you’ve been tracking me down. I know what you really do for a living, and that it’s been your mission for the past few years to find me.”

Nick blinks. “How?”

“I was watching you the first time you scoured the site where I crashed. I’ve been wary of you and your agency since then.”

“You crashed...”

Louis’ voice is quiet and monotone, as if he’s running through the story on autopilot. “It’s not the first time I’ve crashed on another planet. My home planet was taken over. My people evacuated. I was separated from them. My craft wasn’t working properly. I’ve been hopping from planet to planet for a while.” He smiles mirthlessly. “This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place without getting caught, you know. You’re not a very good agent.”

“Err. Sorry.”

Louis laughs. It’s hollow and Nick doesn’t like it. “I’ve always managed to escape before, thankfully. I usually only stay long enough to make some repairs to my craft. To get it flying again.”

“Does it still fly...?”

Louis shrugs. “Nah. Crashed too badly this time.”

The information circling Nick’s mind is almost dizzying. Louis’ tone is still blank and emotionless, despite the dreadful events he’s telling Nick about now. Nick clears his throat. “Erm. Well, that’s. Wow.”

Louis turns cold eyes on him. “Anymore questions?”

Nick pauses. “Yeah.”

“Go on.”

“Why’d you break up with me...?”

Louis looks away. He shrugs slightly. “You were getting too close. I was scared that you’d find me out.”

Nick presses his lips together. “Oh.”

Louis turns to him at that, finally firing up a bit. Nick’s heart scrunches up horribly at the sight of tears in Louis’ eyes as the boy scoffs, “And now you know. Are you going to lock me up in some laboratory, then? Gonna run off to tell your agent friends?”

Nick feels sick at the thought of Louis being trapped in a laboratory, examined and tested on – and from the shake in Louis’ voice, Nick is dreadfully sure that it’s happened before. Louis turns away from Nick and buries his face in his hands, but before Nick can say anything there’s a knock on the door.

An assistant pops her head into the room and lays eyes on Louis. “There you are! You’re due on stage right now. Please come quickly, come on.” She bustles out. Louis jumps up and follows her before Nick can formulate a single word.

-

Nick doesn’t stay for the concert.

He drives.

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, so he drives, and at some point during the drive he realises with vague horror that he’s heading towards the agency headquarters. He keeps heading there anyway; his hands steering with a life of their own.

He uses the quietude to think things over.

He can’t turn Louis in. That goes without saying, obviously. A part of his brain whines about the _ten million pounds_ , but that is only a small silly part and Nick metaphorically kicks it until it shuts up. He can’t put Louis in a bad position by dating him and working for the agency – he can’t do that even if they’re _not_ dating (and a woefully sensible part of his brain reminds him that they aren’t).

So when Nick pulls up to the agency headquarters, he changes back into his suit and marches out of the car. He strides up the steps, through the doors and into the elevator that will take him straight to his boss’ conference room. He drums his fingers nervously against the elevator wall. And the moment the elevator lets out a _ping_ and the doors open, Nick flays his arms and jumps out.

He spins in a circle. “I quit!”

He pauses.

He’s staring at a roomful of his boss’ _bosses_ , and all of the bosses are staring at him.

Nick’s own boss shoots him an absolutely murderous look. He hurries to explain. “Haha. Everyone, this is Nick, the agent working on the extraterrestrial case. He’s a bit of a joker.”

One boss raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Well, that case is a bit of a joke.”

Uneasy chuckles ripple through the group.

Nick blinks. He looks at his boss. “I actually quit.”

Nick’s boss grimaces. He turns to the other bosses. “Please excuse me for a moment.” He glares at Nick and pulls him aside. “What are you doing?” he hisses quietly.

Nick shrugs. “Quitting? I want to focus on my radio career, see. It’s my vocation in life and all that.”

Nick’s boss furrows his brows. “You’re serious?”

Nick nods. “Quite.”

His boss hums. “Emma will be sad.”

“I’ll send her baked goods.”

“The others _have_ been pestering me to drop the alien case for a while...”

Nick grins. “Perfect timing, then! You won’t have to waste anymore funds on it.”

“We offered you ten million pounds.”

Nick shrugs. “I really don’t think I was going to find anything anyway. If we were going to make anymore discoveries, we’d have made them by now.” Nick’s skating on thin ice here. He hopes he has a better poker face than he thinks he does.

His ploy seems to work, because Nick’s boss raises his eyebrows and looks at Nick appraisingly. “I’m proud of you, Nick. Not for bursting in here like a sugar-high monkey – fuck you for that, by the way – but because you’re different.”

“Different?”

“Yes. Firstly, you made a discovery. And now you’re making a sensible evaluation. You’ve matured, I think.”

“Oh.” Nick has to physically restrain himself from tugging down his quiff to check for grey hairs.

His boss snorts. “It’s a compliment, you knob. Anyway, get out of here. I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

Nick claps him on the back and willingly obliges. In the elevator he spends a moment scanning his reflection for visible signs of aging. But as he walks away from the agency headquarters there’s a spring in his step, and it might be because making an adult decision for possibly the first time in his life feels bloody well fine.

-

Louis is a nervous mess at the concert. He misses cues and knocks over a mic stand. He slips into his native tongue several times, singing “blurk me,” during the chorus of _Rock Me_ and receiving a confused look from Harry. At one point Niall sneaks up behind him and covers his eyes, and Louis’s hair ripples all over in shock.

It’s only late that night, changing into his pyjamas at home, that a determined sense of calm washes over Louis. He pauses, staring at himself in the bedroom mirror. After a moment of careful thought, he puts his shoes back on and grabs his keys.

He locks up the apartment and goes down to his car. He gets in quickly and starts the engine, feeling slightly safe under the cover of night.

He drives to Nick’s. He’s half-expecting to run into guns or men in strange orange suits that cover their faces. But he’s tired. He’s tired of constantly worrying, he’s tired of avoiding someone he cares about, and he’s fucking, _fucking tired_ of feeling trapped by the memories of places he escaped long ago.

So whatever situation he’s walking into now, he’ll deal with it. Heck, it’s _Nick_. He wants to deal with it; wants to confront the man and get it over and done with, just so he can know where he stands.

The adrenalin of this decision spurs Louis onwards as he parks in front of Nick’s house. He gets out and marches up to Nick’s doorstep.

He stops a few metres shy of it, stunned by the sight before him.

There are no intimidating figures in strange outfits. No weapons pointed his way. There’s just Nick, sitting alone on his step and drinking milk from the bottle, gazing languidly up at the stars.

Louis clears his throat. “Um. Nick?”

Nick looks over at him and grins. “Pop star! Hi.”

Louis immediately feels awkward and unsure of himself, wondering if this is Nick’s weird version of an ambush. But he wants to trust himself enough to do this. He hesitantly steps forward. “I thought you’d have reported me by now.”

Nick scoffs, spilling milk down his face in the process. He stands and wraps one gentle hand around Louis’ waist. When Louis doesn’t flinch away, Nick pulls him into a hug. He squeezes him affectionately and whispers, “I haven’t done and won’t ever do any such thing.”

Relief threatens to wash over Louis with enough strength to render him boneless, but Louis pulls back in confusion instead. “But – the agency –”

Nick tuts. “I quit the agency. They’re a bit of a mess over there already, to be honest. My resignation will be the least of their worries.” He smiles at Louis and shrugs. “Besides. The case has looked like a dead end for a while now. The boss didn’t have any qualms about dropping it. You’re a very good alien.”

That startles a giggle from Louis. Louis folds back into Nick’s hug, finally letting his body go lax. Nick cuddles him tightly and Louis feels warm despite the chilly night air.

And it’s strange. The night sky is rich in its darkness, scattered with blinking stars. But Louis doesn’t need to glance at them to know that he’s more interested in counting the freckles on Nick’s skin. Right now he doesn’t want to be anywhere, really. Nowhere but here.

-

_“Lovely weather we’re having here in London, today. Ha! I almost feel bizarre saying it. And now we’ve got a lovely treat for you all. It’s our song of the week, and One Direction’s brand new single! Finchy here has already heard it. Is it a good song, Fincham?”_

_“It is a good song, Nick.”_

_“Is it a raging cacophony of abysmal guitar sounds?”_

_“I have to say that there are guitars aplenty in it, though I’m sure you’re the only one who cares.”_

_“Shameful. Without further carry-on, here’s One Direction’s new song!”_

Louis smiles as he turns away from the radio, mixing cereal in his bowl and taking a bite. A guitar fill trickles through the radio speakers. Nick can whinge about guitar music all he wants, but everyone knows that he loves their songs. Louis’ hair quivers happily at the thought of Nick listening to one now.

From where he’s sitting at the breakfast table, Niall sees Louis’ grin. He sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles obnoxiously. Zayn scowls at the loud noise and flicks him in annoyance. “My ears!”

Niall ignores him, wriggling his eyebrows lecherously at Louis instead. “How’s your _boyfriend, hmm?”_

Liam catches on and tries to mimic Niall’s teasing. He beams. “Do you _luuurve_ him?”

On Louis’ native planet a _lurve_ was an odd sort of beetle, so Louis blinks in confusion for a moment. “Um – I –”

“I fucking called it!” Harry announces over a bowl of porridge. This time when Niall whistles, Louis blushes furiously.

“Stop it,” Louis protests. He presses his hands to his cheeks but he can’t hold down the giddy smile. In truth, he and Nick did the whole _L word_ thing months ago, not long after the monumental night when they decided to be totally honest with each other. They just haven’t told the boys yet. Louis knows he’ll be subjected to endless – albeit good-natured – teasing once they do.

He can’t quite bring himself to feel unhappy about that.

Nick’s happy too, judging by the way he’s always going on and on about work. And Louis. Work and Louis, basically. But he’s confident in a way that Louis hadn’t really known him to be before.  He does things with a sense of assuredness that calms Louis (and utterly _overwhelms_ him in bed).

Louis blushes all through breakfast. After he’s done, he quietly leaves the boys and pads upstairs to his workshop in the attic. He takes a deep breath and sits down at the dusty table there, pulling a cloth away to reveal a fragile object.

It’s his broken telecommunications device. He’s been terrified of touching it for _months_ ; hasn’t even looked at it since he last decided that it was irreparably broken. He’s always feared trying to fix it on the off chance that he might end up making something worse. Louis handles it carefully.

He’s been playing with the idea in his mind for a while now. He wants to give it a go. Trying to fix it, that is.

It’s just – he knows it’s not his spacecraft. He knows he’ll probably never get _that_ working, and that even if the minute possibility that he’ll get to see and talk to his family becomes a reality, he won’t be able to physically cross the distance between them. But it’s something.

Louis hunches over his tools and gets to work. He only has this one day off. They have an interview tomorrow morning and he doesn’t know when he’ll have a spare day in London again. But he lets the time absorb him. He lets the work become his mind and the small but steady stream of hope become his hands, and for the rest, he uses what he knows. He works all day and late into the night, forgoing meals and only drinking the cups of tea that Harry brings him. He solves equations that he couldn’t solve before. He connects pieces with a held breath and cautious certainty that his calculations are right.

Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the mic and speakers crackle. The screen flickers into life.

Louis takes a deep breath. With shaky fingers, he enters a familiar sequence.

He waits for three, ten, twenty seconds. And then an achingly recognizable face swims into view. The woman looks shocked, as if she’s seeing a ghost. But she also looks warm and so, so loving. “Louis?!” she exclaims. “Louis, is that you?”

“ _Mum_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.~
> 
> I just want to say, thank you so much for reading. This fic was a milestone for me as it's pretty much the longest thing I've ever written, and it's the only multi-chaptered fic that I've stayed committed to all the way through. That probably says a bit about my fickleness, haha. Anyway, I'm really hoping that there weren't issues with the resolution (or with any other part, for that matter). Please let me know what you think?  
> I'd like to do a time-stamp in this 'verse, maybe. I also have a few ideas lined up for my next fic but I can't choose between them, so feel free to come and talk to me about them on tumblr! I'm currently at tipsy-louis.tumblr.com. :)


End file.
